


Golden and True

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Affair [10]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Family, Pregnancy, Reunions, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Free at last, Jaime and Brienne try to move on but certain forces wouldn't let them have the happiness they deserve. Takes place entirely in Casterly Rock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Casterly Rock

One month later

 

The Isle of Tarth was on the opposite side of Casterly Rock. Much as the helicopter pilot would like to complain about two longish trips, he was paid well and there was more than enough fuel. Still, shuttling the couple from one end of Westeros to another was going to take half a day, at least. 

Jaime assured Brienne they could stay in Tarth for the night if she wanted. His concern was that at seven months pregnant, Brienne shouldn’t be doing a lot of traveling anymore. The helicopter may be Lannister property and the weather promised clear blue skies all weekend but still. The baby was still growing and according to her last ultrasound, was of such size that she might have a caesarean birth. Mother and child were healthy and Jaime didn’t doubt her strength. It was just that Brienne had a bad habit of putting herself out more than she should.

They stayed in Tarth for three hours. First, she brought flowers to Selwyn’s grave. He had died a year ago today. Jaime gave her a few minutes to touch and press a kiss on the gravestone and talk softly to her father. As he walked around, he overheard some snippets of the conversation. She told Selwyn that the baby was healthy and was going to be “a giant—just like his grandfather. Or her grandfather.” She added that Jaime had moved on from wanting to name their little one after kinds of pasta to different types of cured meat: parma, prosciutto, salami to mention a few.

When Brienne stopped talking and got a little teary, that was when he returned to her side. She smiled and reached for him, rubbing the back of her other hand childishly across her eyes with her other hand. “I was just telling Dad he’s likely to have a grandchild named Mortadella.” Her voice was thick but she managed a shaky smile.

“That’s not bad,” Jaime rejoined, dropping his lips on her shoulder and holding her. “Mortadella Lannister Tarth. Sounds just right.”

They went to her childhood home. The windows had been boarded up and once past the locked door, they saw fabric swathed over furniture to protect them from dust. Brienne wanted to get some old albums and take them back to Westeros. Jaime let her putter around by herself as he made calls. 

Despite not having been lived in for a long time, Jaime still sensed the warmth and love radiating from the dusty surfaces of the modest home. The kitchen also served the dining area, divided only by a counter. He easily saw Brienne as a young girl with pigtails (there was a photo of her like that on the wall by the staircase), having dinner with Selwyn, a gentle giant in his policeman’s uniform. They didn’t talk much, Brienne having told him that she only talked a lot with him and Margaery. Some people might say that Brienne was pretty isolated and had quite the lonely life. He understood that. Losing a parent took you out in the running for one hundred percent happiness. Being bullied horribly for half her life also drove Brienne to keep to herself until college. Still, in this small house, Jaime was assured that Brienne was surrounded by love and had found some happiness. Someday, they should go back, he vowed. With their family and stay for a long weekend. Children (and his smile was huge at that) would much prefer this, with the beach nearby and free to run around and never break anything unlike in Casterly Rock with its endless clutter of priceless antiques. 

The day after his paternity was confirmed, they waited for Ned’s call that Oberyn had sent the papers. They got something better—Ned himself showed up at their home armed with the papers. Brienne burst into tears and hugged the man, peppering his unsmiling, flushed face with kisses while Jaime looked on in relief. She signed the papers. After Ned left, she turned to Jaime. To say they were glad was an understatement; they could breathe again, both finally and seemingly for the first time. Brienne asked if they could go out for dinner.  
They had never really gone out. There were the stolen dates in dark theaters in the middle of the afternoon, coffee in a part of the city where they were sure not to run into anyone they knew. It was often Brienne showing up at his doorstep in the morning, having lied to Oberyn about having to be at work early. They would fuck until it was time for her to leave. When her husband was gone for weeks, she would sleep over at Jaime’s place. They would play house until the call would come telling Brienne Oberyn was on his way home. Watching her leave never got easier and Jaime often feared it was the last time. They were passionate for each other but there was always a hesitancy in Brienne’s eyes as they kissed. He dreaded the day she’d come to her senses, be reminded of her vows and end what they had—what little they had. 

The first time she brought him home with her was the night of the assault. It was also the first time she told him she loved him. It was a long afternoon of hearing her gasp and cry out for his name, of filling his mouth with her taste and fucking her deep and hard, intent on leaving his mark on her. It would be some time that Jaime would accept that though they were clearly in love, what they had wasn’t a relationship. They wanted more from each other, that was true. They were committed. But to make things real would mean a battle. Neither of them anticipated the war Oberyn unleashed.

Brienne now wore the sapphire ring on the ring finger of her left hand. They could go out now, hold hands and kiss in public, draw attention and never worry about getting caught. He loved shopping for groceries with Brienne, and had a blast in the baby store as they debated which brand of crib to buy, if the dragon mobile was cuter than lions or direwolves. Going out on double dates with Renly and Margaery, which he thought he was too old for, gave him a blast. They played poker, played mini-golf, ate in restaurants and saw plays or movies. They also became regular dinner guests at Ned and Catelyn. In return, they started entertaining too. Tyrion would sleep on their couch sometimes and they also had Tywin and Kevan over for dinner every now and then. It pleased Jaime that his father had warmed up to Brienne. 

Such that they were invited to his birthday celebration at Casterly Rock this weekend. Family had started arriving as early as Friday afternoon but because of Brienne’s work in the museum and their stopover in Tarth, they flew in Saturday. Jaime asked the pilot to circle around the property so he could point out the sights to Brienne.

“You actually have a tennis court in your home,” she marveled, looking out the window. Despite the seatbelt, Jaime still held her, nagged by the irrational fear that the door would suddenly be ripped off and she would plunge to the ground. 

“Wait until you see the home theater,” he couldn’t resist bragging. “We have a cotton candy dispenser, gumball machine and the seats are lazy boys. You’ll love it.”

She grinned. “Right now, I’m more interested in birth videos, Jaime. I don’t think that’s something you’d like to see in a giant home screen. Though a side of cotton candy with that is a good idea.”

He shuddered and she laughed. To prepare, Brienne had been watching birth videos on YouTube. Maybe the little one in her belly gave her a strong stomach because he got squeamish just hearing screams. He hoped to be stronger when she gave birth or it was going to be a long night. Or day. 

Tywin was waiting for them at the helipad. He was dressed in a black polo shirt, pressed khakis and loafers. He ducked his head as he approached the chopper, getting the door. Brienne took his hand and he helped her out.

“How are you feeling, dear?” He asked, looping her arm through his. Jaime rolled his eyes as his father walked away with Brienne. 

Tywin may have forgotten about him but not Brienne. She glanced anxiously at Jaime trailing after them before answering. “I’m fine. Jaime had the pilot fly around to show me the property.”

The salty air from the sea was refreshing. The breeze fluttered and played with the skirt of Brienne’s knee-length dress, giving Jaime one hell of a view of the backs of her thighs and calves.

“We’ve just had lunch,” Tywin told them. “I’m sure you two could use something to eat. I’ll have food brought to your room so you can rest right after.” He smiled at Brienne kindly. “Welcome to Casterly Rock, Brienne. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, Tywin. I will.” Brienne replied, blushing heavily.

Jaime had not been to Casterly Rock since the day of Tywin’s summons. He remembered playing as a knight here during his boyhood summers. There was no way to forget the summers that brought him and Cersei together, much as he would like to. But that was the time it ceased to feel like home, in spite of the promise of freedom with his aunt. In dark, secret corners, they had kissed and fucked, giving him a temporary respite from the dread he had come to feel here during those visits. 

Tywin and Brienne continued to walk ahead of him. Brienne of course knew of their trysts and he wouldn’t put it past her to imagine where in this huge, grand home did he do things with Cersei. If Jaime had his way, he would have Casterly Rock torched; fire was the only way to cleanse it. 

Tywin turned them over to two servants that immediately got their bags. Jaime waved away their offers to show them to his rooms (“Rooms?” Brienne asked, curious). 

He had doubts about bringing Brienne for the weekend. Casterly Rock was still not his favourite place in the world. There were too many memories here he’d rather forget and not enough to banish them. But he hoped to replace them with new ones with Brienne and their children. 

Not much had changed in Jaime’s rooms the last time he was here. The bed of course, had been replaced to accommodate his taller, adult form. The room slowly cast off any traces of the boy he was, the bright colours of the walls replaced with somber tones of navy and soft gray, the toys locked up in the attic to make way for books, a desk, shelves. When Tywin gave them the invitation, Jaime had asked that his old bed be thrown out—the mattress, the frame, the sheets. He was not going to bring sleep with Brienne in a bed where he and his aunt had fucked. He wanted nothing of his aunt to cross over into their lives.

Brienne stood in the middle of his suite as the servants put away their suitcases. Jaime told them they could unpack themselves and would call if they were needed. He closed the door behind them and turned to her. She stood in the room with her eyes big with curiosity, taking in the walls and doorways that separated where he slept from the lounging area. Feeling his gaze on her, she looked at him. 

At seven months and three weeks pregnant, Brienne was round and soft like a marshmallow. Her hair had retained its new thickness and her skin glowed. She looked a little tired and she was rubbing her back. Her neck and chest was flushed and gleamed with sweat and he knew she was annoyed at the sweater he had forced her to wear. She was hot but he worried about her getting cold. She conceded with a short-sleeved white cardigan worn over her powder blue dress. On her feet were flat, sensible tan sandals.

“Bathroom’s over here,” Jaime said briskly, opening the door briefly. “So you don’t have to worry about running into my half-naked father,” he added, trying to lighten the tension brewing between them.

She glanced at the bed and seemed reluctant. Now Jaime knew he was right to have some furniture changed here.

“The bed is new,” he told her, nodding at the pristine gray sheet, the white comforter and black and crimson pillows.

She blushed and bowed her head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be. . .but. . .”

He went to her and cupped her shoulders. “I understand. That’s why I had the bed changed.”

She looked grateful. “Thank you.” She looked around and asked, “All this space is yours? Even as a boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. This is like. . .bigger than the upstairs area of my house.” Brienne frowned. “Where’s your Dad’s room?”

“At the end of the hall.” He grinned watching her make a mental calculation. The hallway was long. “We Lannisters could be quite overwhelming together but we do like our own spaces.”

“Sorry if I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” Brienne said. “It’s just that I’ve never seen anything like this before. I can’t imagine not getting lost here.”

“Well, it takes years,” he answered. He brushed his lips on her warm cheek, bidding her to relax. “But after a while, you can find your way around even in the dark.” 

He and Cersei often did it in the dark, as quietly as possible. She would muffle his groans and cries with a hand over his mouth. She hardly made a sound at all, just long, strained sighs. He could face the fact that back then, he believed sex with his aunt was damn good. Having had more experience with women now, and most of all with Brienne in his life, those sexual trysts with Cersei were far from good. Not just because he was manipulated into thinking so but it just wasn’t. 

One of his favourite things about fucking Brienne was she was so responsive, gasping and shuddering at the lightest touch, the raw pleasure that transformed her homely face into a breathtaking beauty when she came. She was also loud, a huge turn-on for him. Oberyn deserved to lose Brienne simply for not appreciating that. In Jaime’s opinion, it was next to impossible to leave a woman who not only trusted you with pleasure but also found it with you. That her ex-husband could stay away without having her for weeks, sometimes not even fucking her for months, was incomprehensible. Even something as mundane was waking up to find her messy, pale blond head next to him, listening to her snore, had become things he couldn’t live without. 

Jaime’s hand trailed down her long, freckled arm before grasping her hand. With a smile, he sat down at the foot of the bed and pulled her with him. Brienne blushed as he helped her straddle his hips. She was heavy and his lap would be numb in a bit but he didn’t care. There was a part of his body down there that wouldn’t be going numb however big and heavy she got. He stroked her freckled cheek, loving the pink that bloomed from it. 

She helped him shrug off her white sweater then just kept her hands on his shoulders as he undid the front lacing of her dress, tied in a ribbon. The sweater and the print of the dress helped disguise that she was braless. 

Brienne sighed in relief as he pulled the dress open. She moved her arms so he could tug it down to her hips.  
Jaime was awed at how ripe she looked. Very lush, very round, she seemed like a fertility goddess rendered in marble. But Brienne was warm. She was so warm and soft, so alive. He cupped her breasts carefully, raising his eyes to look into her half-dazed, dilated sapphire gaze before staring at her breasts again.They were full and very heavy. The aureoles were bigger than coins and a very dark pink. Her nipples were fat and long, curving a little. His long finger traced the beautiful, sexy curve of her stomach. Their little one was active again. He pressed his palm on the spot and her breath hitched.

“Jaime,” she moaned breathlessly, her hips thrusting, gently.

It was permission. Jaime met her open-mouthed kiss, quickly finding her tongue and dragging another sexy moan from her. He played with her breasts, gently circling and plucking her nipples. She surged against him, the movement only a slight ripple but affecting him everywhere else. His lips roamed the length of her neck, nipped at her throat before his mouth fastened around her fat nipple. It swelled and tightened like a warm pebble on his tongue. A few seconds later, moisture filled his mouth. Jaime pulled away a little, feeling himself getting harder at the sight of milk leaking from her nipples. He re-fastened his mouth around the engorged tip, sucking greedily.

She smelled of sweat and milk, a sweet, heady natural perfume that made his cock leap impatiently in his pants. Brienne’s hands clasped around his head, inviting him to kiss her more, harder. He was happy to oblige, turning his head to drag her other nipple deep in his mouth. Her hips started to roll, rubbing herself against his covered erection. 

When he pulled away briefly to look at her, his eyes were dreamy. Desire clouded her eyes, her plump lips fuller from their kiss. “Brienne,” he groaned, pouring in her name how much he loved her, needed her. Then with a growl, he resumed kissing and sucking her breasts and nipples. “My wench,” he gasped, spreading his legs and in doing so, opening her more to his cock, hard and painful inside the prison of his jeans. He was dying to be inside her but he was loathed to pull away and end the feast, no matter how briefly.

She was grunting and whispering his name sharply as he continued his carnal ministrations on her breasts when somebody knocked on the door. “Ser Jaime?” 

Jaime cursed, burying his face between her bountiful, very soft breasts as she laughed softly, kissing him consolingly on the forehead. Then she was swinging her leg over him and pulling her dress up, tying the laces. 

Jaime took her sweater from the floor and tossed it to a chair. He smirked as she hastily fixed her ruffled hair but there was little she could do about the wet, round spots on her dress. She blushed catching his hungry stare before he turned away to answer the door. His erection was harder and straining in his pants, barely concealed by the tails of his shirt. He helped her into her sweater before letting the servant in.

A trolley was rolled into the room, followed by a butler. “Shall I serve lunch in the terrace, Ser Jaime?” 

Jaime nodded and gestured to the door. “Please. Thank you.”

He couldn’t help but be amused at Brienne’s bamboozled expression. “There’s a terrace? Like every room here has a terrace?”

Jaime shrugged. “Mine and Tyrion’s, and Father’s. Not all rooms.”

She grinned at him and followed the butler to the terrace. 

“One would think it’s my good looks or money that would impress her or having a cotton candy machine right here,” he muttered, chuckling as he followed her. 

Finished setting up, the butler quickly excused himself with a bow. Jaime pulled out a chair and called for Brienne to sit down. She was enjoying their view of the beach. “It’s beautiful out here, Jaime,” she marveled, rubbing her stomach as she sat down. Jaime kissed her on the nape and took his seat.

Lunch was lobster rolls but with Vegenaise, Brienne discovered. As she gave Jaime a curious look, he confessed, “I gave Father a list of things you don’t like to smell or eat, and alternate foods.”

“That’s very sweet of you.” Brienne beamed at him. “Thank you.”

Aside from the lobster roll, there was fresh garden salad with crisp greens, topped with diced feta cheese, and pecan pie. There was a bottle of chardonnay that only Jaime partook while Brienne sipped sparkling water and complemented her dessert with tea.

“We should rest up,” Jaime told her, his smile lazy and sexy, watching her attack her second lobster roll. “It’s going to be a long family dinner. Then we have the party tomorrow.”

“Any advice on how we’re going to play that?” Brienne asked, picking out the cubed feta from the salad and putting them on her plate. “Do we have to pretend we’re now married or something?”

“Wouldn’t that be fun,” Jaime commented. “Tywin would rather we’re discreet about the baby conceived in sin—“ Brienne guffawed, blushing—“but we can have fun. I say we tell guests the craziest engagement and wedding stories. They’re the most uptight and boring people. They can use some shaking up.” He rubbed his palms together and smirked.

“Jaime, come on,” she gently scolded him. “Let’s not embarrass your Father.”

“But it’s fun,” Jaime whined.

“Don’t be a child.”

He continued wheedling her, just for the sheer delight of annoying and making her blush, her blue eyes flash. Brienne soon figured out what he was doing and slapped him on the shoulder. He laughed, though it hurt because there was an extra force to her hand now. She kissed his shoulder in apology. 

When she let out a loud, very unlady-like burp, Jaime stood up and suggested they burn off their hearty lunch in bed. He got another of her blushes and resolved to start cataloguing them soon. No blush was the same, it seemed. 

Standing by the bed, he helped her out of her clothes, once again drawing another blush from her. Another reason why fucking Brienne was so good—the thrill he experienced in undressing her. It was always like unwrapping a present. He liked it when she got rid of her clothes herself but it was more fun when he took care care of zippers and buttons. Undressing her was a treat to the eyes. Aside from her blushes, there was also her big, beautiful body that made him hold his breath. Her eyes that darkened as they dilated in anticipation of their joining in a little while. 

She was red as he slid a finger into the waistband of her huge, maternity panties, grinning at her wickedly and declaring she looked sexy. She was. After Cersei and other women parading in bits of satin and lace, Brienne in huge, cotton underwear was a refreshing sight. Oh, he would like to see her in silks too but they made her uncomfortable and reminded her too much of Oberyn. Jaime would rather have her comfortable and that meant cotton underwear or just miles and miles of freckled, creamy skin. 

He dragged down her underwear, falling to his knees as he did. Kneeling at her feet, he lowered his head to kiss her thick, pubic hair, making her moan. At her stage in the pregnancy, he couldn’t indulge in fucking her orally because she couldn’t lay on her back anymore. But he palmed her briefly while his lips roamed the circumference of her belly. His tongue dipped into her navel, now an outie, before he rose to his feet and urged her to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Brienne was overflowing with flesh. She was so easy to hold but he couldn’t, not with her size right now. But every inch of her made him light in the head, his mouth water. His cock was twitching just taking in the wild splash of freckles on her pale, reddened skin, her belly round and heavy with their child. It made his hollow-kneed, the sure knowledge that it was their child living and thriving in her. His hands shook as he attacked his clothes, tearing off a few buttons in his haste. The playful but shy glitter in her eyes, her teeth nibbling on her swollen lip, was not helping him relax. He actually let out a relieved sound, between a groan and a sigh, when his boxers and jeans hit the floor. 

Jaime took good care of himself and seeing Brienne eyeing him hungrily and appreciatively was a boost; it always was. So he stood before her, letting her look her fill of him. 

At long last, she asked, “Jaime? Please come here.”

He smirked. Here they were, naked and burning for each other, him embarrassingly, hugely hard and the moistness leaking for her cunt staining the sheets. Yet she was polite, as sweet as ever. He went to her and bent at the waist so he could capture her mouth. His cock nudged at her breasts, the leaking tip wetting a nipple.

As they kissed, she started squirming, moving, until he felt the tentative brush of her fingertips on his cock. He jerked, hissing against her tongue. “Wench?”

“Jaime,” she groaned, the sound of his name so guttural and laced with want making him thrust even more across her palm. Two vivid pink spots rose in her cheeks. Her eyes shone like raw sapphires.

Then she firmed her grip on his cock and brought it to her mouth. 

Oh, yes. He could use a lot of memories like this. 

 

Jaime warned her that Tywin expected people to dress up for dinner, even when it was just family. Brienne had raided all the maternity shops in Westeros trying to find something suitable to wear. A suit felt stiff and she wasn’t comfortable in them anymore. Dresses were harder, for her normal size more so pregnant. Margaery and Jaime took turns going with her, patiently bringing her to the shops as she whined and growled about the pain in her back and her feet, the tears shed in frustration about the lack of decent options. She wailed they should just buy a tent and cut it into a dress. Both told her not to give up.

When Brienne was presented to the Lannisters, she was glad she made the time to shop. The women, Genna Lannister and Dorna Swyft, were in elegant, black cocktail dresses. The men, liked Jaime had dressed in suits in varying shades of gray. Brienne wore a rich, asymmetrical caftan. The style bared one shoulder so she had some comfort from the heat. The fabric, though layered, was whisper soft. It had a gold, swirling pattern so once again, she got away with not wearing a bra. It brought out the new platinum shine of her hair and made her eyes bluer. 

Jaime introduced her to his cousins. All were blond and emerald-eyed, the men beautiful as the women. Brienne was nervous the entire time so she couldn’t really remember the names. Jaime’s hand at the middle of her back was reassuring, though.

Tywin encouraged conversation by not having partners sit with each other. Brienne counted herself fortunate that she was seated between Tyrion and Lancel, the only cousin whose name she remembered. She remembered him because he looked like a younger version of Jaime, though rounder and softer. He was only a year younger than Jaime but looked older, probably because with his sandy-blond hair rather than the spun-gold shade of his cousin. 

As they were seated, Brienne asked Tyrion about Tyrek and Selyne. They would be flying in tonight, he told her. They would most likely arrive during dinner or a little after. She was glad that they were still invited. They weren’t to blame for their parentage. 

The official press statement denounced the rumours of incest and labelled them as the malicious workings of a bitter ex-husband. Brienne knew that Tywin had informed Kevan and Genna of the truth but their children knew nothing. As far as they knew, Aunt Cersei had done too much partying, pissed off an ex-lover and was lying low. 

Brienne did not come from a background similar to Jaime’s. She was used to just her and Selwyn dining quietly, their meal simple but delicious. The supper she was about to partake was restaurant quality, with ingredients from the exclusive, expensive aisle of gourmet stores. There was plenty of delicious food but the Lannisters only allowed themselves small portions. This was the world Oberyn wanted to be part of, she realized. And now she was with a man very much of this world. But was he, still?

Jaime enjoyed food but she noticed that he took care not to overindulge, except for chocolate. But while everyone around them ate sparingly, as if afraid to cross an invisible boundary, it was a relief to see Jaime enjoying the food, and even more, winking at her from across the table to encourage her to eat more. 

She had been on pins and needles worrying that attention would be focused on her. They had the right to be curious, really, but she would rather they weren’t very curious. Her work at the museum also involved public relations so she had some skill in small talk. But that was work, she was a different person there. This was family. You engaged in conversation with family, not small talk.

Genna Lannister sat beside Jaime. She looked like the female version of Tywin, with a shrewdness in her eyes and a hard, stoic expression on her handsome face. As a butler poured wine into her glass, she turned her attention to Brienne.

“Jaime tells me you work for Catelyn Stark.”

“Yes.” Brienne held off sipping water for her suddenly dry mouth. “I do.”

“I’ve gone to her museum a few times. She has an unusual roster of artists. Contemporary ones,” she told everyone in the table. “Highly experimental.”

Brienne blushed, knowing that the description was just another way of saying the art in the museum was questionable. She understood. Contemporary art pushed the boundaries or eschewed rules altogether. It had fans just as it had detractors.

“You should know that the kraken piece Uncle Kevan has in his office is the work of Asha Greyjoy,” Tyrion said. “Brienne discovered her.”

“I thought it was very unusual for your taste, Kevan,” Genna told her brother. 

“Asha Greyjoy’s style is not everyone’s taste,” Dorna said, giving Brienne a gentle smile. “But she has both the technical rigour and the mastery to give a fresh spin to traditional techniques. I hear she’s branched out to industrial art as of late, Brienne.”  
“She has,” Brienne was glad her voice didn’t sound so squeaky. “She will be having her exhibit at our museum again next year. Her latest work is mind-blowing. She has taken on steel forging and glassblowing. She’s exploring the different ways fire takes form, and the strengths they have.”

“We look forward to getting our invitation,” Tywin spoke up from the head of the table. Brienne cursed the blush rising in her cheeks.

“Of course, Tywin. Your presence would be very much welcome,” Brienne told them. From across the table, Jaime winked at her and mouthed, I love you.

Tyrion smirked at this and Jaime rolled his eyes. Lancel, having also seen Jaime, turned to Brienne with a smile and whispered to her ear, “You have my cousin wrapped around your finger.”

It was meant to be a compliment but Brienne was uncomfortable with it. It sounded like she had manipulated Jaime. 

Unaware of how she was taking his words, Lancel continued, “So many women tried, you know. You must write a book about it.” He smiled. It was a poor imitation of Jaime’s cocky, arrogant grin. 

Again, another compliment, a joke. She still didn’t like it. She knew about the women Lancel was talking about but with the way he was talking, he was coming off as very presumptuous. And annoying.

“I hear that you’re one of the managers in the family corporation,” she said, hoping to deflect his commentaries. “I thought you’re also part of the legal counsel, like Tyrion?” They were the same age, after all.

Lancel frowned. Uh-oh, Brienne thought, realizing she had said something inappropriate.

“Flunked the bar three times,” Lancel said, coughing. “I studied business in college so that’s why I’m only a manager. I’m in human resources.” His voice was suddenly small and he was looking at Jaime as he spoke. “You know, Jaime would be invaluable if he were back in the company. He and Tyrion ran the legal department and were one hell of a team.”

“He’s happy with the work he does now.” Brienne declared firmly.

“It’s a waste of his talent,” Lancel said disapprovingly.

“Who is being wasted, may I ask?” Tyrion asked, overhearing him.

Brienne flushed, embarrassed. Lancel, however, admitted it outright.

“You should talk to your brother.” He told Tyrion. “We could use him in the company. Don’t tell me you think he’s satisfied surrounded by dusty books and playing old records. I’m surprised Uncle Tywin’s let him do it for so long.”

“Jaime does the things he does because he wants to,” Tyrion said. “Obviously, Father respects that. He’s successful on his own. What does he need us for?”

That put an end to the awkward conversation and Brienne shot Tyrion a grateful look. He bid her to lower her head to him so he could whisper. “He’s jealous of Jaime but also admires him. Jaime is the golden son,” he said, but there was no malice. “A role that Lancel aspires to but will never be.”

The meal continued with no more tests on Brienne and no more awkward references to Jaime from Lancel. As a butler put down a plate of filet mignon before her, another butler entered the room to announce the arrival of more guests. They all looked up to see Selyne appearing behind the butler, then Tyrek.

Neither of them were smiling. Brienne first thought that Tywin must be glaring at them but there was no hate or anger on his face. Selyne seemed to sought out Brienne and sent her a strange, apologetic look.

The butler excused himself. Almost immediately, a third figure joined the new arrivals.

Brienne heard everyone hold their breath while Tywin took great care to lower his utensils on the table. She looked at Selyne, feeling both confused and betrayed. Selyne looked at her shoes. Tyrek looked embarrassed too.

“Hello, everyone,” Cersei Lannister spoke, stepping between her children. She had a hard smile that did not reach her eyes. When she saw Brienne, her lips practically curled in an almost-snarl. “Tywin. I thought guests wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow. If you could make an exception for somebody outside this family, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having your sister here, would you?”


	2. Mother of Madness

“You are in clear violation of our terms of agreement!” Tyrion hissed the moment the door of Tywin’s study shut behind them. He was the last to enter the room so he slammed the door shut and glowered at his aunt in spite of the significant difference in their heights.

As soon as Cersei had spoken, Tywin called an end to the meal and sent everyone but his brother, sisters and Tyrion to their rooms. His disgust and anger came off in waves in spite of his calm order. Jaime, having gone white at the sight of his former lover, had to be nudged sharply by Genna for him to move along and get Brienne. She also looked ill. Such was the poison of Cersei’s presence.

Cersei stood in the middle of the room, looking smug and sneering as she regarded the combative force of her relatives around her. Tywin sat behind his desk, his emerald eyes shards of green icicles. Kevan and Genna flanked him, both of them looking grim. Tyrion stood behind his aunt, ready to tear her to pieces if pushed.  
This woman took advantage and raped my brother, he thought. Her actions had consigned her children a permanent place on the shrink’s couch and she’s here to torment Brienne. He remembered clearly the showdown between the two women. Brienne was the clear victor. Cersei hated to lose. 

_That’s what she's here for. To reclaim what she lost and win._

“A contract that I was coerced to sign, at the risk of physical harm on my person,” Cersei pointed out, sounding too flippant, almost gleeful. “The judge agreed that the absence of my own legal representation voided it.” She hummed in triumph as she pulled out a sheaf of papers from the designer purse hanging from her wrist. Smirking, she laid the papers on Tywin’s desk with flourish.

“For your information, that is the judge’s order putting a temporary hold on the contract you forced me to sign,” she announced. “Any violation of that is an act of contempt and would mean jail time.” At that, she whirled around and faced Tyrion. “You’d be right at home, though, my nephew, in jail. Lots of whores going in and out. It will be a feast of the cunt for you there.”

“You were not forced to sign. You refused to sign the contract despite clearly telling you that you wouldn’t be allowed to leave the building without doing so,” Kevan told Cersei. “The guards were on you because you resisted.”

“And I resisted because you were forcing me. See what’s wrong there, Kevan? You, Jon and this abomination here,” she added with a scornful look at Tyrion. “You ganged up on me and made threats on my life and my children. Perhaps that’s not what happened. But I say it did. Three men to make one woman do what they want? Who do you think the judge will believe?”

“Cersei, if you had wanted to come here you shouldn’t have involved your children,” Genna admonished her, shaking her head. “Haven’t they been through enough?”

“They’re strong as lions. And they want to help their mother.” She looked at Tywin and said, “You’re very silent, my dear brother. That’s unusual. You’re usually quite verbose.”

“I don’t believe in wasting my breath on a lost cause,” Tywin told her.

“You had no right to force me to sell my shares, just as you had no right to question my mental health,” Cersei snapped. “How dare you. Do you want me to apologize about your son? Fine. I will. But he should apologize to me first. You call it rape. How could I have raped him? For all we know Jaime took advantage of me. I was going through a rough divorce. I was despondent. He was messed up. He was already tall and strong for his age then.” When Tywin narrowed his eyes, she smiled sweetly. “Yet another way I can play this, Tywin. Who will the jury believe? The woman divorced by a man who treated her most unfairly or the teenager with the raging hormones, all twisted up because his mother died and his aunt was there? Freud would have a field day with us if he were alive.”

“Do not,” Tywin growled, “talk about Joanna.”

“Alright. I shan’t.” Cersei said with a shrug. “So let’s talk about something that matters. If I’m not going to get my shares back, I demand that you give me the money. You don’t want me here? Fine. Then give me my money.”

“You berate my father for questioning your sanity when right here is an example of just how irrational you are,” Tyrion scoffed, crossing his arms. “You’ve got at least a couple of loose screws, Aunt Cersei. Also quite a high number of loss.”

“You are mad if you expect me to just flit away and skulk off to nowhere like Gerion,” Cersei said. “I have done nothing wrong.”

This time, Tywin slammed his fist on the desk. “Nothing wrong? You raped my son, you fucked your brother and passed off the children you had with them as another man’s! Jon Umber could have taken all we’ve worked hard for because you’re a cock-sucking whore and you dare to stand before me, in my home, declaring you’ve done nothing wrong?” 

Cersei remained calm throughout his outburst. “Your home? This is our home, you son of a bitch.”

“I bled and sweated to keep this in our name when Father couldn’t. Everyone in this room has earned the right to call this their home except you.”

“Because you never trusted me!” Cersei suddenly shouted. “You saw that I was good for only one thing! Well, guess what, brother, I did exactly as expected. You wanted a legacy, I gave the world more Lannisters!”

Genna was shocked while Kevan looked even more grim. Tywin was so red that Tyrion was sure smoke would be coming out of his ears next.

Cersei, realizing that she was giving them ammunition for her behaviour, suddenly smiled. Her voice almost cooing, she said, “I’ve only come here for my share of the fortune. If you still can not find it in you to forgive me, that is your choice. I will not contest that. But I’m here to fight for what’s fair and mine.”

As she spoke, Tyrion walked around to get a look at the hold order. He looked up from it and said, “It’s legit.”

“Of course it is. I will not lie to get what I want.” She said, tilting her head then looking at Tywin. “You know what I speak of is true. Drop the ridiculousness about requiring me to have doctors pronounce me sane just to get what I have a legal right to. You are angry. You lashed out. We need to put it behind us—“

“Do you really think to fool me with this performance?” Tywin demanded. “You raped my son. It’s a miracle you haven’t damaged him. I should cut you down right this second.”

Cerse stuck out her chin. “If you wish.”

“I wish.” Tywinn snarled. “If not for _children,_ you’d be choking on your blood and tears right where you stand. Get out of my sight.”

“Now, brother—“

“I am not your brother. You are not part of this family.”

Cersei stilled. For a moment, Tyrion saw her eyes flash dangerously but it vanished instantly. 

“So.” She remarked after a moment. “This is where we are.”

“Go.”

“You know you can’t make me.”

“Father can not make you leave Casterly Rock,” Tyrion said. He pointed at the papers.“But it doesn’t state here that you’re limited to staying in this house.”

Cersei glared at him. “What are you talking about?”

We can not remove you from Casterly Rock right now, unfortunately. But Casterly Rock is the name of the property, not limited to the house. The tennis courts are in Casterly Rock. The helipad is in Casterly Rock. The garage is in Casterly Rock. As is the pool house, which can also be transformed into a guest house in a snap. My point is, you can stay within Casterly Rock but it is not exclusively in this house.” Tyrion folded his hands in his middle and met her angry stare. “You will stay in the pool house until we come to an agreement once more. One way or another, you will sign the contract and you’ll never set foot here again.” 

“If you think you can just order me around you are very much mistaken,” Cersei spoke through gritted teeth. She glared at her brothers and sister. “You will let this imp talk to me this way? Ordering me about as if I’m a servant?”

“The next time you insult my son again you I will drag you out here myself and cut your face,” Tywin said softly.

It seemed all the air was sucked from the room. Everyone knew that Tywin didn’t make idle threats. Cersei actually swallowed when she saw him playing with a letter opener. 

“I stand behind what he said although I’d much rather throw you into the sea,” Tywin continued. “Get your belongings. You will stay in the pool house until I summon you.”

Brother and sister stared at each other, waiting to see who would cave first. No matter how determined Cersei was, Tywin not only possessed patience. He was also master.

“You will pay for this,” Cersei vowed before she turned on her heel and left the room. She slammed the door shut with a force that rattled the wall hangings. 

“Kevan,” Tywin told his brother. “Alert security. Have them station four men around the pool house. Make it clear to them that she is not to leave unless given a direct order by me. Genna, see to it that her meals are brought to the pool house and assign only from the staff to the task. Make sure she doesn’t have any contact with her children or anyone of us unless I say so. Tyrion, get in touch with whoever her lawyer is and fly him over here if you must. Emphasize that I will not appreciate any delay. ” 

“You mean to speak with him tonight?” Tyrion asked, glancing at the papers. “This, uh, Qyburn?”

“Tonight.” Tywin reached for the telephone and started tapping the keys there. “Now I intend to make Umber's ears bleed."

“Brienne, calm down,” Jaime said for the nth time since they had retreated to their room.

"I will not calm down!” Brienne growled. Her eyes were the colour of the raging sea and she paced back and forth with surprising ease for her current bulk and size. “How could Jon let his children do this? Selyne knew about you and her mother and she’s here. She brought that woman here! I don’t care that she’s a fucking teenager, she knows! Jon also knows!”

Brienne had been furious from the moment Cersei had arrived. The insecurity she used to feel about her had vanished since the night their confrontation in front of Casterly Company. Back then, Brienne thought that the alcohol and frustration over her prolonged divorce proceedings gave her the courage. She learned tonight it was simply because the woman was vile and did not deserve any measure of niceness from anyone.

“She’s her mother. As complicated as their relationship is—“

“That’s still not an excuse. I would smash Jon through the wall if he were here. You told me he was there when they made the arrangements for your aunt to never set foot here. She can not come here unless at the express invitation of three members of the Lannisters. Who was the third? Was there even a third?”

How could Jaime be so calm about this? It wasn’t because he had any lingering feelings or sentiment toward his aunt. Brienne knew that for sure. As she peered at him questioningly, he flushed, realizing what she must be thinking. 

"I don’t want here here either, Brienne. Believe me, I’m as angry as you are. But I do understand her children. At the moment they’re what I’m thinking of. Did you see them? Neither Tyrek nor Selyne looked happy. That tells me Cersei’s forced them.” Jaime glanced at the door. “I hope Father’s not interrogating them or anything. I know how Cersei’s mind works. She railroads people even when they blatantly tell her no. I wouldn’t put it past her to not do it to her own children.”

Brienne stopped pacing and said softly, “One of whom is your daughter.”

He looked her in the eye. “Precisely.”

“That doesn’t excuse Jon Umber,” she pointed out. When Jaime bowed his head, she added, “You know I’m right.”

Suddenly tired from all the pacing, she collapsed heavily on the foot of the bed. Jaime, who was sitting in an armchair, got up and joined her there. 

They held hands and Brienne kissed his knuckles in a desperate, foolish hope that every touch of her lips would comfort him. But Jaime seemed to think she needed comforting because he put his arm around her and drew her to his chest. 

“She abused you, Jaime,” she said, breathing in the faint trace of his aftershave and soap. “I know you loved her but she has no right to be here, just as she shouldn’t be walking free. She should pay,” she raised her head and looked in his eyes. There was a dimness in his stare, a tiredness and resignation. “I’m so sorry that she’s here.”

“She won’t let herself be stopped, Brienne. She’s here for something.” Jaime's voice was strained.

She sighed and returned her head to his chest. He held her firmly, solid and steady as a rock. 

“She’s already stolen so much. What more could she want?” 

“With Cersei, who knows?” Jaime put a finger under her chin and prompted her to look at him. “Wench, I don’t want you worrying about her. I beg you. Think of our child.”

“It’s because of our little one why I am.” Brienne admitted, sitting up. 

“What do you mean?”

How to explain this? That after Cersei’s arrival and Tywin sent everyone to their rooms except for Tyrion, Genna and Kevan, Brienne was on the receiving end of a hate of such gravity it seemed a cold fist had reached right into her chest and began to crush her heart. She had gasped, stunned and terrified to feel something like this and when she turned around there was Cersei. Calculating, assessing, a savage promise in her eyes that she had come to collect debts and Brienne owed her the worst. Cersei continued to look at her this way, sneering openly at her pregnant belly, her face darkening when Jaime went to her and took her by hand. 

Unfortunately, Brienne was familiar to such a feeling. It foreshadowed terrible, horrible things. Such as when Ronnet Connington pushed her off the slide when they were children, calling her ugly and laughing with his friend as she wept in pain because she had broken her arm. Or when she found out the pool among the football team for her virginity, her prom date Hyle Hunt looking to collect before the night was over. She had barely escaped and threw away her torn dress before her father could see it. 

She knew why Cersei Lannister had every reason to hate her. It was years since her affair with Jaime ended but she still saw him as her property and Brienne had stolen him from her. From what Jaime told her, Cersei only wanted one thing: everything. 

“If she didn’t get what she wanted, she made you pay,” he told her once. “She couldn’t get Rhaegar to be faithful so she all but made him into a pauper with the biggest divorce settlement at the time. When she wants something, she goes all the way and expects twice the return of her investment, no matter the dead bodies that result.”

“I don’t trust her,” Brienne said to Jaime now. “That’s why she shouldn’t be here.”

“Of course you don’t. Nobody should.”

“No.” Brienne put a hand on his cheek and bade him to look at her. “I don’t know exactly, I can’t name it, but I believe something is going to happen and we’re _all_ going to pay. Like it or not.”

_I also think she might do something to our little one._ But she didn’t tell Jaime that. If she acknowledged it by speaking of it, it will come true.

“Brienne, listen to me, alright? I will keep you safe. You and our little one.” Jaime vowed, reading the seriousness in her face. “Cersei will never be within ten feet of you. You won’t even breathe the same air if I can find a way to ensure that. Do you trust me?”

Her heart beat strong and steady.“Always."

That night, Jaime locked the door. 

He woke up alone the next morning. He rolled toward her side of the bed, eyes still closed, nose buried in her pillow smelling of cotton and sun. He groaned; his head hurt. Habit had him opening his eyes. He sleepily stared at the wall for a few moments. 

Suddenly, his eyes opened wide. 

Three hours later, the entire household of Casterly Rock was still looking for Brienne.


	3. Mine is the Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading this chapter, I thought to warn you about the following:  
> 1\. You will see a glimpse of Cersei's walk of shame.  
> 2\. The scene/confrontation before that and what happens right after is very uncomfortable to read.  
> 3\. No matter how justified or how we sympathize with the person behind it, there is still a clear violation or violations that happened. IT IS DISTURBING.  
> 4\. Please don't shame me or don't hate me. I put the warnings in the beginning so you know what to expect. You may skip the latter half of this chapter.

Lannisport owed its very existence to the family it was named after. Centuries after it was first established, the Lannisters not only held more than considerable power on the place, they owned it in terms of commerce, local government and the police force. 

It was the fact that the Lannisters owned nearly all of Lannisport that brought the police at their doorstep from the moment Tywin rang the alarm. The rule was for a person to go missing for twenty-four hours before any formal search could be taken. Rules never applied to the Lannisters and the look on Tywin’s face was enough warning that he shouldn’t be reminded of it on fear of death.

Jaime wore the exact same look as he glowered at Senior Detective Daario Naharis. Jaime was taller, leaner but Naharis radiated with a savage strength that could very well challenge him. Naharis had thick, dark hair, round black eyes and a well-maintained beard. Jaime knew he was being irrational as the man bore no resemblance to Oberyn Martell but the dark features reminded him of the other guy. As if that wasn’t annoying enough, the headache that had been pounding in his head since waking up was still beating his brains in.

With the way Jaime was regarding Naharis, Tyrion knew a fight was imminent. Once again, he slipped into the role of diplomat. 

He understood his brother’s fear and rage. If he were in Jaime’s shoes, he too would rebel at having to sit through an interview when he should be with police and other members of the household staff combing the property for Brienne’s whereabouts. But Naharis meant well, and Tyrion understood that too. The time given for answering his questions might hold the key. No matter how insignificant the answer, that tiny detail might just be the one to save Brienne.

Jaime had been mad with horror from the moment he realized that Brienne must have been gone for a while. It was a struggle to remain calm, patience even more.  
Brienne no longer wore perfume. Nevertheless, pregnancy had added a potency to her natural scent. It was a mix of baby powder, bath soap and lemons. It was in their bed back in the apartment, on pillows, it was the scent of home. Jaime pointed out to Naharis that while he was the early riser between them, he did not wake up as early as he had. The absence of Brienne’s scent on the pillow, and the cool side of the bed where she would sleep, had been the things that suddenly roused him awake.

It wasn’t the only thing he noticed—which he sent him into a panic.

“The door to the terrace was open,” he said. “I can’t remember opening it or leaving it open. But we had our lunch there. But I’d like to think that if I locked the door I would have locked the one in the terrace too.”

Naharis, looking up from his notebook tablet, asked, “Why would you lock the doors? You have guards.”

Jaime looked at Tyrion then said, “Our aunt is here.”

“Cersei Lannister,” Tyrion supplied.

“Is there any reason why you would need to protect yourselves from her? I asked your father and he told me the guards swore she was in the pool house the entire night. Until now. He mentioned an ongoing personal family issue, of which he made it clear I was not to tread any further. I respect your father’s wishes but you have to understand, rather than get the answers we need in finding Brienne, we’re just getting questions.”

“What we should be doing is out there,” Jaime pointed sharply at the throng of police and Lannister household outside. “Fuck your questions. I should be looking for her!”  
Tyrion tried to calm him. “Jaime—“

“You know I’m right!”

“I understand, Mr. Lannister. But whatever is going on in this family might be connected to Brienne’s disappearance. Now either you’re straight with me or we go searching for her not knowing anything. Your choice.”

Jaime and Tyrion looked at each other once again. Jaime’s eyes were hard. “I don’t care about the others involved.”

“Can we trust on your discretion, Detective Naharis?” Tyrion asked.

Naharis put away his notebook and nodded. “I swear it.”

“Certain proclivities of my aunt, Cersei Lannister, has led our Father to banish her from the family. Not only that but she also had to give up her shares in the company. She did not take it well, particularly my father’s condition that before he gives her the financial compensation for the shares she sold, she must present a note from the list of approved doctors certifying that she is of sound mind. We have reason to believe she is unstable, which is why her ex-husband, Jon Umber, now has sole custody of their children. Despite her resistance, she signed the agreement. Last night, after we have not seen nor heard from her since the day of that signing, she arrived with a hold order from the judge. Father banned her from Casterly Rock but she got a judge to overturn that. But I read the fine print and pointed out that Casterly Rock is not exclusive to this house. It’s the entire property. I was the one to suggest that she be placed in the pool house. My father deemed it necessary to put her under guard.”

“Has she made threats?”

“Not yet. But given that our aunt is quite merciless in extracting debts from those whom she believes owe her a great deal, we felt justified in having guards on her. She also had a confrontation with Brienne a few months ago. I witnessed it myself. It wasn’t pleasant. I wouldn’t be surprised if Cersei is also gunning for Brienne.”

“Are you aware of this confrontation of your aunt with Brienne?” Daario asked Jaime.

“Brienne told me.” Jaime’s heart was tight. His brave wench had hit Cersei right in the face for her crimes. 

“You realize that while this is more information, I really need details.” 

Tyrion was about to refuse—Jaime knew it, so he beat his brother to it.

“I had an affair with my aunt. It lasted for nearly fifteen years.” Jaime was not going to hide that anymore. If his admission would bring clarity, if it brought Brienne home, safe and unharmed, he was going to announce it to the world. He didn’t care about himself or his family. Only Brienne and their child. “I found out she was cheating and that’s when I ended things. We have not been together for almost ten years.”

Naharis’ face was blank. “When did this begin?”

“I was fifteen.”

This time, he couldn’t hide his shock. Tyrion hung his head. “We didn’t know until much later. When it was over.”

“No wonder,” Naharis breathed. “I’ve heard of Tywin Lannister and it’s a sheer miracle that he hasn’t wiped his sister off the face of the earth with what she’d done.” 

“We’re trying to overturn that hold order. It’s the weekend, so it’s impossible. I tried to get in touch with her lawyer. A man named Qyburn.” Tyrion was grim. “His name is not in the Westeros Bar Association. Or any law association.”

Naharis pulled out his notebook from his pocket and penciled the name in. “I’ll have the men look him up as well.” He looked at the brothers. “Do you have anything more about your family to tell me?”

“That’s all.”

“You mentioned that you can’t remember leaving the door to the terrace open,” Naharis said to Jaime. “Walk me through last night. From the moment Cersei arrived.”

Jaime remembered the shocked silence in the table after Cersei had spoken. Tyrek and Selyne didn’t look happy and in fact, appeared embarrassed for their mother. As Cersei continued to smirk, Tywin, with what little calm he still had, softly ordered everyone to their rooms except for Kevan, Genna and Tyrion. Genna had to nudge Jaime as he was too shocked at the reality of his aunt less than ten feet away.

As soon as he was roused, he couldn’t get to Brienne fast enough. Cersei had turned her attention to Brienne, who stood with her arm circled protectively on her belly. Cold green eyes moved assessingly from her face before they rested on her bump. Fear leadened Jaime’s gut by the time he got to Brienne’ side. Brienne, for her part, was not going to be intimidated and glared back at Cersei. 

“You don’t waste time, Jaime,” Cersei drawled. Her hands flexed, as if she itched to claw at Brienne's belly. 

“Shut your mouth if you don’t want me to punch your teeth in,” he snarled, standing protectively in front of Brienne. 

“You used to be the sweetest boy,” tutted Cersei. That snapped something in Brienne because she reddened and let out a roar that nearly shattered glass.

“If you speak to Jaime again, I will end you.” 

Wisely, Cersei shut up. Or maybe she had just saved her ammunition for later.

“We talked in the room,” Jaime told Naharis. “Brienne was angry. Afraid. Then we went to bed shortly. I locked the door. . .we didn’t have locks in our doors for the longest time but it was a good thing. Or so I thought. I don’t remember leaving the door to the terrace open.”

Naharis nodded and made note. “What else did you notice when you woke up, aside from the absence of her scent and the open door?”

“I had a headache. But I only had half a glass of wine. It must have been a lot stronger than I thought because I slept through the night. Brienne’s always moving because that’s when the little one is most active.” Jaime’s voice shook. “It wakes me up. Annoys me but when she moves, I move too.”

Naharis made more notes. As Jaime finished speaking, he frowned.

“What is it?”

“I haven’t slept through the night for months. Not since the baby started moving,” Jaime said slowly. “I’m a light sleeper. It’s Brienne who sleeps through a parade. . .”

“What are you driving at?”

“She gets restless because of the baby. I get restless because of her. Last night. . .I don’t remember. I _can’t_ remember what happened after we went to bed.”

“You said the wine must have been strong.”

“I consume alcohol regularly. Last night was no special wine. I’ve had it many times. No matter how tired I am I am always awakened by Brienne moving in bed. Always.” Jaime winced, as his thinking was making his nagging headache worse. He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows.

Naharis narrowed his eyes. “Are you still having that headache?”

“Yeah.”

“What was Brienne wearing last night?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“Colour? Pajamas? Nightgowns?”

“Probably pajamas but she’s hot. She doesn’t own nightgowns. It might be a t-shirt and boxers. Usually that's what she wears. ”

“What about colour? Anything?” 

Jaime froze. “I don’t remember. I can’t even remember if she got up during the night to relieve herself. I know she does that several times. I don’t. . .I can’t remember her doing that at all.” 

Suddenly, Naharis pulled out a penlight form his pocket. He prompted Jaime to look at him and he shined it right into his eyes. 

“Just as I thought,” he murmured. “You need medical attention. You’re having trouble remembering, you have a headache and your pupils are dilated. I think you may have been drugged. If you were drugged, we need to examine the bedroom.”

 

 

Police and forest rangers from the national park had been called to Casterly Rock and were now scouting the nearby forest for signs of Brienne. At the distance was the roar of helicopters conducting the sear from above. A local maritime force, along with lifeguards, were also looking in the sea. 

Five hours had passed. There was still no sign of Brienne.

Tywin always heeded Tyrion’s advice. Though Jaime was also intelligent, Tyrion had a sharp, cunning mind, and at the moment, his head was the only rational one among the Lannisters. Tyrion had advised Tywin of the criminal and legal ramifications awaiting if he went to Cersei. But the hours. The long hours, piling on, the reports that were all negative, had begun to take their toll. Tywin had not been able to do anything about Cersei’s abuse of Jaime because he was too sunk in his own misery over losing his wife. He vowed to protect his son but how? How when despite doing everything in his power, Brienne was still missing?

What little control Tywin had was all but gone, in its place a temper slated to rival the explosion that destroyed Valyria. With Kevan at his side and the chief of police, Addam Marbrand, Tywin stormed to the pool house. The guards stationed there barely leaped out of the way just in time.

Cersei was on the chaise lounge, clad in a silk robe and her hair in a sleek roll when the men barged in. She was in the middle of pouring herself wine and arched an elegant brow at the sight of them.

She finished pouring the wine as if there was nothing unusual happening. “I suppose you’ve come here to tell me yourself all that fucking racket going on all morning.” She took a dainty sip and smirked. “I know I’m unwelcome here, brother, but really. This borders on juvenile.”

“Wheres’s Brienne?” Tywin’s voice was quiet. As Cersei continued sipping, he snatched the glass from her and flung it away. “What have you done?” He shouted.

“What have I done? What do you think to accuse me of this time?” Cersei demanded, unperturbed by his outburst. She narrowed her eyes at Addam Marbrand. “Who are you?”  
“I’m Addam Marbrand, Ms. Lannister,” he replied. “Chief of police.”

“Chief of police,” Cersei drawled. “My brother does know people in high places.”

“I know you have something to do with Brienne’s disappearance,” Tywin told Cersei. “Speak now or I will kill you myself.”

“If you kill me you’ll never know!” Cersei said gleefully. But her face suddenly twisted upon realizing she had just implicated herself. Her scream was cut off by Tywin diving toward her, his hands wrapping around her throat.

Kevan and Marbrand tried restraining Tywin but he was too angry and too strong. Cersei gagged and gasped, her legs bending as her feet slammed repeatedly on the floor as she struggled. 

“Tywin, stop!” Kevan grunted, trying to push against him. 

Marbrand, pulling and trying to shove him from Cersei, grunted, “Mr. Lannister, if you don’t stop this I will have to arrest you. Sir! Unhand her! Now!”

That got through him. Tywin’s hands froze around Cersei’s throat. Furious emerald eyes stared at each other before Tywin removed one hand and slapped Cersei soundly on the cheek with it. As she sobbed, Kevan and Marbrand pushed him off his sister. She rolled on her side, wheezing and coughing. Globules and threads of spit spilled from her mouth.

Cersei remained curled up on the floor, moaning as she tenderly touched her cheek. Kevan and Marbrand had to restrain Tywin again when he made to kick and snarled, “Get up.”

Marbrand was helping Cersei to her feet. As she was pulled up, she suddenly slapped his hands away and pointed at Tywin.

“Arrest him! You saw what he did! He tried to kill me!” she gasped.

Kevan wrapped his arms around Tywin as his brother tried to lunge toward her. “I’ll put the handcuffs on myself as soon as I do that, you fucking whore!”

Cersei screamed and threw herself toward her brothers. Marbrand grabbed her away just in time but Cersei, too vengeful, blinded by her hate, managed to punch him and get away. Kevan pushed Tywin out of the way as Cersei attacked them. Marbrand threw himself on Cersei and they crashed to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Let me go! You fucking let me go!” Cersei yelled as Marbrand rolled her onto her back, trying to restrain her. Her robe had fallen open, one of the sleeves torn from the seam. Her nightgown had slipped halfway down her arm, revealing her breasts. Tywin glared at her in disgust while Kevan turned away.

“Ms. Lannister, if you don’t calm down I will have to restrain you!” Marbrand warned her.

“Fuck you!” Cersei managed to free one arm. She pulled it back and punched the Chief of Police Addam Marbrand right in the face. 

That was it. Marbrand shoved her rudely to turn her on her stomach and yanked her arms behind her. As Cersei continued to curse and yell, he slapped the cuffs on her. Then he pulled her up to her knees then to her feet. Tywin glared at her and Kevan, who had turned to look, once again whipped his head away. 

Addam tried to cover up Cersei but Tywin gave him a warning look. Realizing her dishevelled state, Cersei started protesting. Her clothes were half-oof and torn, leaving her nearly naked for the guards to see. Genna, standing at the edge of the pool as she answered questions from another detective, rushed toward them, looking alarmed. "Cersei," she began to say and started taking off her sweater. The detective followed closely on her heels and tried to take off her coat as well. 

“Leave her be,” Tywin barked at them. Genna looked at him in disbelief and Cersei, her eyes red with sudden tears, shook her head and tried to dig her heels in. “She deserves to be paraded around like the hateful whore she is.”

But Genna won't back down. "Tywin this is unacceptable!" 

“Tywin, please,” Cersei whispered.

Tywin glared at Marbrand, who was once again trying to cover her up. “Lift a finger to help her and you can kiss your job goodbye.” He turned to the guards. “The same goes to you as well.”

And with that, Cersei was brought out in the harsh light of day, her face streaked with tears, her breasts hanging out rudely of her torn clothes for all to see.


	4. A Lion Pays Debts

CHAPTER FOUR: A Lion Pays Debts

The test was conducted in the back of the ambulance as Jaime refused to leave Casterly Rock. It was quick and efficient, except for the part where blood was taken from him. No matter how much the paramedic at hand tapped on the veins on his inner arm, they remained faint and barely-seen. A bottle of water was thrust to him.

“You’re dehydrated,” he was told. “Drink this then we’ll finish.”

Jaime had torn out of the bedroom upon realizing Brienne was missing. Hours had passed since yet he was still in his worn t-shirt and plaid pajamas. His mouth was dry and his throat felt stuffed with prickling blades of grass. The delay in the blood test drew a glare from him at the paramedic, who suddenly started stammering that he needed to be rehydrated to get a sample. Fuck the gods, Jaime thought. Any minute longer he stayed in the fucking van was time taken away from looking for Brienne. Tyrion and Naharis, waiting just outside, insisted that Jaime do as he was asked, both of them glaring at him when he started to protest. So he gulped halfway through the bottle before commanding the paramedic to try again. 

“If I was knocked out, who could have done it?” He growled as a needle was inserted through the skin. He turned away, ignoring the queasiness in his empty stomach.

“The forensics guys are fingerprinting and gathering whatever evidence is in your room,” Naharis explained. “DNA would take a while but fingerprints should be faster. Besides you and Brienne, who else was in the room?”

“I suppose the servants to get it ready, and when our lunch was served.” Jaime answered.

“What else can we expect to find in your room?” 

Jaime knew what he was insinuating yet the memory twisted him deep inside. Had it already been hours since Brienne was moaning against his lips, her sapphire eyes shining as she drew his hand to her belly where the little one was active again? _She’s fierce, she said. He kissed her on the cheek and whispered, Just like her mother._ Boy or girl, what mattered was their little one was healthy but he couldn’t help imagining it as the latter. Blond, with her mother’s eyes. Big and strong, ready to take on the world from her first cry.

“We fucked,” he said, clearing his throat. Flushing, he added, “On the bed. And by the chair near the door.”

“I’ll tell the staff to cooperate with the fingerprints and to also submit a DNA sample when asked,” Tyrion said. He glanced at Jaime. “Do as they ask, Jaime. Be patient, please.” Then he left.

It was an hour past noon already, yet the sky was choked with gray clouds and sunlight was pale. The current weather situation was not helping. Hours had passed since Brienne had gone missing, and what was even more worrying was the absence of any sign. No bits of fabric torn from her clothes, no blood, no nothing. If not for her clothes in the closet, her purse with her phone and other essentials resting on the vanity, he would wonder if he had actually brought her to Casterly Rock. 

Naharis told him that the absence of any sign of a struggle could mean she was unharmed. Could was not good enough, in Jaime’s opinion. He needed Brienne in the flesh, warm, safe, with him, now. 

As blood was drawn from the inner part of his arm, he heard a commotion. He turned and saw Cersei being led away in handcuffs, nearly naked with her robe and nightgown hanging down her arms. Tywin and Kevan trailed after her and the Chief of Police, Marbrand, he remembered while Genna was trying to match her brothers’ long strides, looking furious. 

Jaime’s shock was momentary for he soon realized what this all meant. Seeing red, he shot to his feet, ignoring the paramedic gasping that the puncture in his arm was still open. A rage like no other seized Jaime that he didn’t notice the warm trickle of blood down his arm as he stormed toward Cersei and Marbrand.

“You did this?” He demanded, moving so quickly that Marbrand was unable to stop his palm from colliding with Cersei’s cheek. Cries went around and Jaime was suddenly shoved to the ground. Grunting, angry, he struggled. “Let me go!”

But whoever had restrained him was stronger and kept him on the ground. “Don’t make me arrest you, Mr. Lannister,” Naharis grunted in his ear.

That should sober him up but Jaime was past caring. It gave him the sudden power to throw the detective off him and go after Cersei and Marbrand. “Where’s Brienne?” He yelled. “What the fuck did you do to her? If you hurt her, I’m going to kill you myself—“

He didn’t finish that thought as he suddenly lunged forward and grabbed a gun from one of the policemen on standby. Cries exploded from everyone followed by the metallic clatter of the police reaching for their weapons and pointing at him.

“Jaime, no!” Screamed Genna as he pointed the gun at Cersei’s heart. 

“Jaime,” spoke Marbrand. Jaime barely heard him, and also hardly noticed that all the cops around had drawn their guns and were aiming at him. 

“Jaime, put the gun down. This is not the way,” he continued.

“Answer me!” Jaime cried out to Cersei, who was staring at te ground. “Where’s Brienne?”

“Jaime.” His father’s voice cracked into the hysteria welling in his throat. Jaime looked at him then turned his attention back to Cersei. “Jaime, please. Put the gun down.”

“She took Brienne,” Jaime answered. Cersei was behind it all.“She hurt Brienne!”

“We won’t get the answers we need like this, Jaime,” Naharis said, slowly rising from his prone position on the ground, hands up. He kept his hands up as he stared at Jaime in the eye. “Jaime, give me the gun. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not even going to arrest you. I understand. But if you hurt Cersei we won’t know what happened to Brienne until maybe too late.” 

Jaime glared at Cersei, who had raised her head and now staring back at him defiantly. There was a glitter in her eyes. A half-smile flitted at her lips.

“She’s enjoying this. Can’t you see?” Jaime demanded.

“Jaime, please put the gun down,” Tywin pleaded. 

“We’ll put all our guns down, how about that?” Marbrand asked him. “We do that and you put the gun down, Jaime. And you let us do our job. We’ll get Brienne back. And she’ll be okay. But not like this.”

“What has Brienne done to you?” Jaime asked Cersei, igoring. “She never hurt you, never did anything against you. How can you hurt the one good person in this world?”

The light of my world, the love of my life, he said to himself. Goodness personified. I put her in harm’s way. It hurt to breathe once he realized that.

“Never hurt me?” Cersei whispered, her eyes cold. “Never did anything against me?” Sneering, she spat out, “She took everything from me. My children. My money. If you haven’t been fucking her—“

Jaime froze, suddenly seeing it all clearly. “You blame Brienne? She had nothing to do with what you did.” 

“If she wasn’t in your life, none of this would have happened.” Cersei snapped.

Horrified just how insane his aunt was, Jaime’s grip on the gun slackened. He glanced at Naharis and, chilled and shaking, handed him the gun. Naharis quickly put it away. Tywin rushed from behind him and stood protectively in front of Jaime.

“Get her off this property,” he growled. 

“You owe me a debt, brother. All of you!” Cersei yelled as she was shoved away and toward a waiting squad car.

Gutted by what he had just found out, Jaime fell on his knees to the ground and Tywin followed him. Kevan patted him on the shoulder and Genna looked at them sympathetically before saying, “We can’t just let them take her away like that.”

“She hurt my—“ Jaime almost said wife. “She hurt Brienne and you want to help her? What the fuck is wrong with you, Aunt Genna?”

 

Selyne saw the tensed commotion as Jaime pointed a gun at her mother. Part of her feared for Cersei, another allied itself with Jaime. 

She and her other cousins have been confined to their rooms, except for older ones such as Lancel who had joined the search for Brienne. She wanted to be out there too but knew she would be more of a hindrance than a help. 

From the moment Cersei picked her and Tyrek up from Last Hearth, she had been riddled with anxiety. She had all but cowered under Tywin’s glare, and no amount of apologetic glances could soften Jaime and Brienne’s stony expressions. What really hurt was the look of disappointment and betrayal on Jaime’s face. She would never think of him as her father, probably, but it still hurt to see something like that. Tyrek was handling the situation better in spite of the brunt of responsibility on his shoulders.

She was on the window seat hugging her knees when someone knocked lightly on the door. She rose when the door opened and Tyrek let himself in. Disheveled, a little sunburnt, and looking tired, Tyrek leaned heavily against the door before he shut it behind him. She rushed to her brother and threw her arms around him in a fierce but terrified embrace.

“You took too long,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as she clung to him. Sleep eluded her last night and she had been looking out the window for hours, watching the horizon, the sea, for any sign of him. She pulled away and put a hand on his cheek, quickly retracting it when he winced. It was a little red.

“I circled around and went fishing just so I have a good excuse,” Tyrek answered.

“Where’s boat?”

“At the marina,” he said, stepping out of her arms and sinking hard on the foot of her bed. “I saw the cops.”

Selyne nodded. “Jaime knew right away.”

“Shit.” Tyrek swore. “I thought drugging him with Sweetsleep would knock him out for a couple of hours, at least.”

“There’s something else. Tyrek,” she clutched her hands together. Her heart was in her throat.“Tyrek, the police took Mom.”

That yanked him to his feet. “What?”

“I don’t know how! If they knew or if somebody tipped them off. What are we going to do? It’s twenty minutes before she has to call that Qyburn again. If she doesn’t make the call—“

She burst into tears, hating their situation, hating her mother. Tyrek put his arms around her and she sobbed unabashedly. He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head as her tears wet and stained his shirt. Soon, his tears fell on her hair. Is this what we pay for, being the abominations we are?

“We have to tell them, Selyne.”

She gasped and flung herself away from him. Her eyes were big as she shook her head frantically. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No! Tyrek, Jaime pointed a gun at Mom! He could have killed her! What do you think he’ll do when you tell him the truth? Or Tywin? You didn’t see Mom—she was nearly naked! That’s Uncle Tywin’s doing.” She had been shocked at the state her mother was in, teary-eyed, her clothes torn off to display her body most obscenely. Selyne had looked away from the window, unable to stand the sight of her like that. 

“What about Dad?” Tyrek cried out. “If Qyburn doesn’t hear from Mom, he’s going to put a bullet in Dad’s head. You know I’m right.” 

“Tywin will never forgive you! Jaime will kill you.” 

“I deserve everything they will do to me.” Tyrek glanced at the door.

Selyne was about to protest again when she realized what he meant. She gasped and threw her hands toward her mouth. Tyrek looked back at her grimly.

She felt sick. _“You didn’t.”_

“I had to. It was Dad, Selyne.”

“She’s pregnant and done nothing wrong!” Selyne shouted, horrified at what he’d done. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt her!” 

“I didn’t have a choice.” Tyrek hung his head.

 

Tyrion was left behind in Casterly Rock, as well as Genna. Jaime, Kevan, Lancel and Tywin had joined the other teams scouring land and water for Brienne.   
Tyrion was getting frustrated and more worried by the minute. It was the middle of the afternoon already and all they had so far were questions. Naharis had looked up Qyburn’s name and the only hit was a speeding ticket from years before. It listed him as a forensic attorney but with an expired license. 

The details regarding Qyburn brought little light yet also more alarm. He was a medical doctor but had his license removed due to the illegal human experiments he was conducting. He then turned to law, specializing in forensic law. For reasons unknown, he was disbarred as well and had been off the radar since. His whereabouts were unknown.

Tyrion was also trying to get in touch with Jon Umber but all calls went straight to voice mail. He managed to wrangle a call to an assistant, who told him that Jon was going to be incommunicado for the entire weekend as he was off to some spa retreat where outside communication was banned. He wanted to know how Cersei got hold of their children when it was agreed she would only get supervised visits.

Daario Naharis was coordinating with the forensic team, led by a beautiful, sharp woman named Ellaria Sand. He had stayed behind along with two other detectives. Police Chief Addam Marbrand had taken charge of questioning Cersei, but with zero success. According to his latest message, Cersei wouldn’t speak at all, not even to demand for an attorney.

As the sky darkened and thick, storm clouds choked the horizon, Tyrion was informed that the Coast Guard was suspending the search until the weather cleared. He had to resist throwing things. The search in the forest was also going to be suspended due to possible accidents that may face the teams. 

He was watching the boats return when Daario Naharis approached him. He looked up and cocked an eyebrow at the detective.

“If you’ve come here for more bad news, the least you could do was bring some scotch with you,” he retorted.

Naharis ignored the jibe. “Crime scene investigation got a hit on one of the fingerprints found by the terrace.”   
“And? Is it someone I know?”

“Someone I haven’t seen all day,” Naharis replied. “Nor any of my men. You gave us a list of all staff and Lannisters presently in Casterly Rock but there’s one name we haven’t crossed off the list. I’m surprised it’s only now that his absence was noted.”

Tyrion frowned. “Who is it?”

“Tyrek Umber.” Naharis said. “There’s something else. We ordered a rush on Jaime’s blood sample. He has traces of restoril in his blood. Otherwise known as Sweetsleep.” He nodded at Tyrion’s disbelieving face. “You’ll have to take me to him, Mr. Lannister.”


	5. Storm Surge

Last Hearth was a five-day drive. Flying was the faster portion. Gerion Lannister was still rich despite being cast out of the family, as he had made his own investments through the years. He could afford to fly first class yet a part of him balked at the idea of a faster means of transport.

Months had passed since that encounter at Tywin’s office. Gerion was too furious at his brother and himself to apologize. When his mind cleared, he tried getting in touch with Kevan and Genna, even Jaime and Tyrion to arrange a meeting with Tywin so he could properly apologize and be brought back to his good graces. No one would do more than accept his call. He tried for another few weeks but gave up after Jaime told him curtly that no matter when he called and whoever would arrange a meeting between the brothers, the answer was the same: he was out of the Lannisters and there was no way he could go back.

So Gerion threw himself to work. He went to Dorne, planning to spend the month just soaking up the sun and looking for potential real estate to develop into an exclusive resort. Two days it took him to pack up out of boredom and hop on the next flight out. He would never have to work again but the life of an idle millionaire was not to his liking. So he concentrated on what assets he had and sought to develop them further. He invested in a restaurant this time.

Gerion had the golden touch when it came to money. He played the stock market but didn’t consider himself as adventurous or daring in any way. Rather, he was careful, putting just a bit of money then letting his investment grow over the years instead of mere months. It was more secure this way, not to mention safer for the investor.   
Success was easy for him—it always was. It was satisfying. But there nagged at the back of his mind the idea that he had a son with Cersei. He had known for years but was warned by Cersei never to acknowledge nor further the relationship with Tyrek in any way due to nasty repercussions that await. Gerion never felt any affinity for the boy but was sorry about the way he found out about his parentage. Tyrek was a good kid, decent, humble—absolutely no trace of Cersei at all, except for the eyes and hair, which could easily have come from him. But how did you connect to a person who knew you in another way his entire life? How did you make something out of the nothing you’ve always had?

Gerion started with a series of text messages to Tyrek. _If you would like to talk about what happened, just give me a call._ They were all unanswered. Thinking it was the wrong number, he placed a call one day. It was answered after the third call. Tyrek’s response was brief: he had no interest in getting to know his father, Jon was his only father as far as he was concerned. 

Months passed again before Gerion resumed contact. He knew that Tyrek was advancing on a couple of courses so he was still enrolled for the summer term. When the texts went ignored again, he decided a personal visit was in order. He understood the kid’s bitterness. But Gerion wanted him to know that it didn’t have to be like that always. It wasn’t his intention to replace Jon Umber, or be a father to him in any way, unless Tyrek said so. 

Tyrek’s roommate told him that he was off for the weekend to Last Hearth. Gerion was apprehensive about going then. Jon may have welcomed the children but Gerion bet his millions the other man wouldn’t welcome him. But Gerion was desperate. It didn’t matter that his son wanted nothing to do with him. He wanted to do this, to let Tyrek know there was somebody for him aside from the family he knew. That was all. No expectations. It would give Gerion the peace of mind he had long been denied.   
So he sent a message to Gerion’s phone, and another to Jon, when he was a day away from Last Hearth. Driving gave him time to think and compose his thoughts. Neither replied. That was expected. Gerion didn’t expect to be let in the estate either but he was going to try. 

Though it was summer, the northern weather remained cool and crisp. Gerion slipped on his fleece-lined jacket as he strode out of the hotel on the last day of his drive. No luxury hotels for him, just motels and the occasional low-end hotel that offered a bed to sleep on and decent toiletries. He was too recognizable with his carved, good looks, golden blond hair and bright emerald eyes. 

It was Sunday afternoon when Gerion finally pulled up in the street of the Umber estate. He lowered the headlights as he approached the tall iron gates. On the left side stood an outpost. Gerion squinted. It was empty.

It was likely Jon had taken the children away for a trip but it did not mean he would dismiss staff and security. Gerion honked the horn, unsure if it would yield any response. He lowered the window of the car and the phone in the outpost rang.

He couldn’t reach for it from the car. With a sigh, he slid out and leaned over to reach for the phone.

“Hello?”

“Who’s this?” A disembodied voice, soft like a hush, asked.

“It’s Gerion Lannister. I’m here to see Jon and Tyrek Umber.”

“Did Cersei send you?”

Gerion frowned. “Who are you again?”

“I didn’t say.” The person on the other line sounded unsure. “But maybe I should let you in.”

And with that, the gates started to open.

Gerion drove through the long, curving pathway lined with trees thick and abundant despite the summer season. As he approached the imposing, gray, split-level modern structure of Umber’s house, the front door opened. He frowned again as his eyes rested on a tall but stooped figure of man with short gray hair and too-pleasant features that reminded one of a favourite relative, maybe a grandfather, or a father. An uncle. He pulled over and stepped out of the car slowly, not tearing his eyes away from the man.

Gerion had only visited Last Hearth a few times but he remembered enough to know that Jon Umber’s staff dressed in casual clothes consisting of a black sweater and gray wool pants during cold months and a white shirt and black pants on warmer weather. They were mass-produced, non-descript wear. Even in the soft overhead light, Gerion recognized the stitching and cut of the man’s trousers as Tobho Mott’s, the tailor of choice among the old rich. His deep crimson sweater appeared to be made of soft cashmere. 

Though the clothes were fine, there was a quality of something battered and well-used in the old man. Gerion straightened to his full height, towering over him.

“Mr. Lannister,” the man approached him, a soft smile on his face. Gerion saw that his eyes were blue, clear as glaciers despite the crow’s feet around them. He offered his hand to the other man. “My name is Qyburn. I work for your sister.”

He was still confused why Cersei would have someone working for her anywhere near the Umbers. Or why this man thought Cersei had sent him. Yet Gerion shook his hand.  
“Oh. She’s never mentioned you. I’m sorry but why would Cersei send her employee here?” 

Qyburn’s smile was close-lipped and benevolent. Gerion felt himself shudder. 

“She sent me to make arrangements. Would you follow me inside, please, Gerion?” 

He held out his hand, motion for Gerion to precede him. Still suspicious, Gerion went ahead anyway.

The interior of Jon Umber’s residence had a modern yet cozy feel. The walls were a soft crème, adorned with a mix of priceless, classical pieces of art and interesting paintings. The sofa was a long and huge sectional with dark, moss-green cushions. The coffee table was stacked with magazines as well as a textbook that Gerion thought must be Selyne’s, and the shelves and tables filled with rare knickknacks from the family’s travels. As imposing as the house looked outside, it was clearly a home, warm and well-lived in in spite of the discreet though expensive touches. 

Qyburn entered after Gerion. Gerion looked around, noticing something right away.

“Where’s everyone else?” He demanded. Jon always had staff moving about. 

“Mr. Umber thought to give the servants the weekend off.”

“Even the security?” Now this Gerion highly doubted. “Umber may be all casual and all but I don’t believe he’s that big of an idiot to have security take the weekend off too. Where is he?”

Before Qyburn could answer, a shrill, ringing sound hit the air. He paused and murmured, “I apologize, but I must take this,” he said, pulling the phone out of his pocket.

As Qyburn disappeared into the foyer, Gerion padded forward. 

The stillness was giving him the creeps. To counter it, he started calling for people. “Tyrek? Selyne?” He strolled toward a door that he remembered was Jon’s study. “Jon? I’m sorry to come without an invitation— _holy shit._ ” 

Jon Umber lay on the floor, his mouth taped and his body hog-tied. His face was bruised and matted with dried blood. His eyes were wild and big as they stared at Gerion. Gerion quickly recovered from his shock and went to his knees to free him. 

“What the hell happened? Who did this?” He demanded, trying to find a knot. Then he reached for the canister on the desk, spilling out the contents until he found a letter opener. As he started to saw through the bonds, Jon started grumbling under the gag. He was looking behind Gerion and making panicked sounds behind his gag. 

Gerion was flung to a sea of blackness before he managed to turn around. 

 

 

Tyrion closed the door of Tywin’s study and regarded the two men standing before him, his Uncle Kevan and Detective Naharis. As a storm raged outside and the police withdrew from the search, Tyrion was about to allow for one to be unleashed within the walls of Casterly Rock.

“What have you found out that we have to meet here away from everyone?” Kevan asked. He was blunt like Tywin.

“Detective Naharis,” Tyrion told him.

“Our forensics team has managed to cross-reference every fingerprint gathered in Jaime’s room with your staff. As Jaime mentioned, there are at least a couple from when his room was readied and cleaned for his arrival and when lunch was brought early yesterday. They have solid alibis. Except for one.” Naharis told him. “Your nephew. Tyrek Umber.”

“Tyrek and Selyne didn’t get here until we were having dinner,” Kevan said slowly.

“Selyne is his sister?” Naharis asked them. They nodded.

“Why would his fingerprints be there? I suspect once again that you are withholding certain information that may help in finding Brienne Tarth. Sirs, you are going to have to be honest with me. For real this time.” Naharis declared in a tone that indicated it was not to be questioned. “You continue that and I’m walking out of here as well as the men. I don’t care if my boss is a friend of Tywin Lannister’s. You’re not making my job any easier.”

“That’s why we’re here, away from prying eyes and ears,” Tyrion answered. “That’s why I also have my Uncle with me, to witness.”

“Witness what?”

“You promised to be discreet about the information regarding our aunt Jaime and I shared with you earlier. What I’m about to say should never leave this room. If word of it leaks out, I will sue for everything you’ve got, Naharis.”

If Naharis was not to be questioned, Tyrion Lannister was not the man to cross. He was the imp, a disgraceful dwarf. The Abominable Lannister. Yet there was no denying that he had inherited not just Tywin’s mind but also his cunning. Idle threats were made by lesser men. Tyrion may be half a man but he was certain not less.

But Naharis wouldn’t be cowed easily. “I asked earlier if you had more to tell me and you said no. You fucking lied, Tyrion Lannister. Your delay in sharing whatever you’re about to say now may have just caused us further delay.”

“Do you want to do your job or whine?” Tyrion shot back. 

Naharis, knowing he was beaten, ground out, “What else is there to know?”

“Jaime told you he had an affair with our aunt. He’s not the only one. As I said, she has certain proclivities. Proclivities that have led to offspring with my brother. And my uncle.”

Naharis’s jaw hit the ground and he glared at Kevan. Kevan glared back and snapped, “Not me, you fool. Our other brother. Gerion Lannister.”

“Whom my father has also cast out as a result of this affair. We have not heard from him since.” Tyrion said.

“What does he have to do with Tyrek Umber?”

“He’s the biological father. Jon Umber knows.” 

“Fucking fools,” Naharis swore. “We could have been looking up Gerion Lannister hours ago. For all we know it’s him and his sister behind this!”

“You asked for Lannisters and staff in Casterly Rock. He’s not here.” Tyrion answered. To Kevan, he said, “Detective Naharis has also told me that Tyrek is unaccounted for. None of the detectives or the police have spoken to him.”

“What about Selyne?”

“She’s here. She’s bound to know where he’s gone off to.” 

“Is she loyal to her brother?” Naharis asked.

Tyrion nodded. “They’re close.”

“Is this all I need to know?”

“There’s more. I can’t get in touch with Jon Umber. I was able to call his assistant, who claims that he’s off to some spa retreat where cellphones are not allowed. I know the man. Jon would rather lose a toe to frostbite than soak in a mud bath. He has sole custody of Selyne—Tyrek is already an adult—and has arranged for Cersei to have only supervised visits for a limited time in a year.”

“Jon Umber of North Umber Oil?”

“That’s the one.”

“I’ll get in touch with my sources in Last Hearth. Probably have them swing by his house to check if he’s there.” Naharis headed for the door but turned back. “Is this all I need to know? No more?”

“No more.”

Naharis turned the doorknob but as turned around again. “Do you swear it?”

Tyrion spread his hands and Naharis held the door open. “There really is nothing more to say. Now. Shall we go speak to my niece?”

Once again, Tyrion asked Kevan to come with them. The storm continued outside. At the back of Tyrion’s mind, he thought that he should have seen either his brother or father by now but due to the activity and the people all around, it didn’t surprise him that neither had checked in yet. 

Tyrion led the way to Selyne’s bedroom. It was on the west wing of the mansion, the opposite side of the rooms where from where Jaime, Tywin’s and Tyrion’s. He knocked briskly on the door.

“It’s Tyrion,” he said. “Please open the door.”

There was a thump, followed by voices. One was clearly deeper. Tyrion glanced at Kevan and Naharis and pushed open the door.

First, he saw Selyne, pale and looking afraid as she stood in the middle of her room. He pushed the door wider open and saw Tyrek. He was sitting on the foot of the bed, looking sunburned yet also pale. The Umber siblings looked at each other and cast worried eyes at their cousin and uncle.

Tyrion nodded at them. “We need to talk. Allow me to introduce Detective Daario Naharis.”

 

 

The sky crashed with a ferocity that just about rivalled Jaime Lannister’s roar at being told to turn the boat back. He flung the radio again and glared at Tywin.

“Tell me now if you wish to leave,” he growled at his father, squinting at the painful pelt of rain on his face. The rain was slashing drops, matched with howling winds. He gripped the helm determinedly. “I’ll turn this boat back to shore but I’m not setting foot in Casterly Rock until I find Brienne.”

“Jaime, the Coast Guard just advised us to get back. The search will resume as soon as the rain stops!” Tywin shouted as the sky unleashed another violent torrent of rain. He was sitting on the floor, drenched and trying to protect his head from the sails whipping out of control from the wind and rain. A sudden wave tossed the sailboard upward before it plummeted back to the sea. Jaime lurched forward, his chest slamming right onto the wheel he was holding.

“We’re endangering ourselves out here!” Tywin yelled. “If something happens to us the search effort will be divided. Listen to me!” 

But Jaime was too far gone. He was past reason already. 

“Jaime, please!”

“No!” Jaime shouted. “I can’t go home without her! I’m not giving up!”

“Brienne wouldn’t want you risking yourself like this!”

That made him nearly hysterical. “Don’t you fucking talk about her like she’s gone!”

“She probably doesn’t want me doing this but if the roles are reversed, she’d do exactly like this!” He knew this in his gut. Just as love had preceded them before everything else, so was the drive to protect each other. Brienne did it every time she tried to leave him when Oberyn started making threats. Jaime tried to shield her every time there was a possibility she would get hurt. Neither had asked the other for protection but both had freely given it. It wasn’t instinct. It simply was.

Brightroar was an elegant sailboat. Sleek, stylish, this was the sailboat meant to cruise through calm waters. It was not meant for weather conditions as the one they were in the middle of now, and it was not meant to be tossed so. It had been years since Jaime was behind the wheel of a boat but the moment he turned it over to Tywin, his father would promptly head back to Casterly Rock.

That couldn’t happen.

They were going to get themselves killed. He knew that. But he couldn’t stomach to notion that while he was safe and warm back in Casterly Rock, Brienne was most likely out here in the sea. The cops had been updating Tyrion and he knew his brother was keeping some information from him. Silverhill forest was thick but it wasn’t unexplored. If there wasn’t any trace of Brienne there until now, then she was somewhere else. Traffic surveillance cameras had not revealed her, nor had their own cameras in Casterly Rock or any reports from the guards told of any vehicle leaving. She was somewhere out in the sea, that Jaime was sure about.

It would be close to seven hours since discovering Brienne disappeared. Jaime had come close to putting a bullet between Cersei’s eyes if not for the reminder that she was the key to Brienne’s whereabouts. As of last report, she had not only refused to cooperate. She hadn’t called for any lawyer as well. Threatening her with a criminal charge had not shaken whatever sick resolve kept her silent. Cersei, unfortunately, had a steely resilience that she sometimes put to good use—or misuse. She’s shutting up because she knows it will torture me the longer she holds out, he thought as he was nearly thrown off the boat. He glanced at Tywin crouched low on the floor and clinging to the edge with one arm. He had strapped on a life vest. 

Jaime didn’t. 

Because if Brienne was dead, then their child was as well. 

There was no reason to live after that. 

How many hells must we go through before we get a shot at happiness?

Lightning flashed in the sky, a crooked, silver sword splitting the horizon. Tywin once again shouted for them to return. 

Just then, a twenty-foot wave started approaching them.

 

Hours had passed since Cersei Lannister was brought to the police station for questioning and her suspected involvement in Brienne Tarth’s disappearance. Through it all, she had made only one phone call. Addam Marbrand knew it was illegal but he had traced by their techs. It was a to a prepaid number, owner unknown. Whoever it was, the person was in Last Hearth.

It was highly irregular for the chief of police to be doing the questioning but Tywin expected no less. Since Cersei had not appeared to have gotten in touch with a lawyer, Marbrand continued to hack away, hoping to shatter her unyielding, icy demeanor. 

She had been threatened with obstruction. Of possible kidnapping. Marbrand gave her all the possible chargers that will be filed against her if she refused to cooperate. But Cersei just muttered under her breath or glared at him with disdain, the expression sharpened even more by her beautiful face.

Watching the questioning through a two-way mirror was another detective under Marbrand, Dacey Mormont. Her mind was on the scene unfolding before her, dulling the rest of her senses to the thunderstorm battering the world outside of the police station. Arms crossed as she frowned, her eyes hard on Cersei Lannister. Marbrand warned her of the possibility that the Lannister woman had gone off the deep end. She didn’t doubt it. There was a menacing glint in her eyes, and whenever Marbrand turned away, a smirk would tilt up her lips. 

As if she were playing a game.

Soft, gentle footsteps came from behind. Dacey turned and saw Ellaria Sand approaching. Ellaria was the supervisor of the morning shift forensics team. The rest of her was dry but Dacey noted that her hair looked a little moist. Ellaria held a folder under her arm. 

“Anything?” Dacey asked.

“Definitely something,” Ellaria answered. She looked at the mirror. “So that’s her. Beautiful woman. I saw her led away.” She frowned, looking a little disturbed but she threw her shoulders back. “I wish to speak to Marbrand.”

Dacey tapped lightly on the glass and Marbrand glanced their way. She tapped again, signaling they needed a word with him. 

“What do you have?” Marbrand asked Ellaria as he shut the door behind him upon stepping out.

“Fingerprints. Naharis is questioning him right now.” Ellaria passed he folder to him. “Every fingerprint found in Jaime Lannister’s room has been accounted for, but not his.”

“Tyrek Umber,” Marbrand murmured, reading from it. “Cersei’s son.”

“I don’t know if this helps. But a few months ago, there was some sort of scandal. It was all over the headlines one day but gone the next.” Ellaria said. “It’s some wild story about Cersei’s children not being her Umbers but someone else’s.” 

“Whose?”

Ellaria looked at him then Dacey. “You never heard of this?”

“If I don’t have Westeros Idol in the background, it’s police scanners,” Dacey replied. At the disapproving frowns that met her revelation, she said defensively, “I don’t have much of a life, okay? Now what’s this rumor?”

“They’re rumored to be Jaime Lannister’s.” Ellaria shrugged. “It’s probably just nothing. As I said, it was gone the next day. There’s more. We sped up the bloodwork on Jaime Lannister’s sample. Naharis suspected he was drugged due to his difficulty with remembering anything from last night. There’s Sweetsleep in his bloodstream.” 

“That’s a prescription drug,” Dacey said. “Do you know who in the family may have that?”

Ellaria grinned and glanced at the mirror. “Cersei Lannister.”

She then excused herself, saying she had to go back to the lab.

“What do you think?” Dacey asked Marbrand.

“Naharis mentioned that Cersei’s been banished due to certain activities that displeased her brother, Tywin.” Marbrand nodded. “That could be a window to an answer.”

“You will really bring that up? The incest?”

“Detective Mormont, a pregnant woman has been missing for hours already, with not a single trace of her. Whatever Cersei did, it pissed off Tywin Lannister greatly.” 

Marbrand peered critically at the Lannister woman through the glass. “I was told she doesn’t take lightly to things being taken from her. I’ve heard things too. I wouldn’t put it past her to do something to get back at Tywin of Jaime. But we won’t know anything until I get answers.” He tapped the folder Ellaria gave him. “Let’s hope this gets us something.” 

“I’d like to try another approach, if you’d let me,” Dacey offered. 

Marbrand glanced at her. Flushing, she added, “Sir, you were the one to arrest her. And from what I heard, she was basically shamed. She’s not going to cooperate with you just because of that. She’s pissed. Maybe she needs to talk to a woman. A mother? You know, let us have a woman to woman thing.”

“Alright. I’ll allow it.” Marbrand handed her the folder.

Cersei Lannister was lounging on the steel-backed chair, leg crossed over a knee, as if she were in an exotic locale waiting for a fruity, parasoled drink. A slim, elegant brow raised as Dacey let herself in. 

Her robe and nightgown were torn in revealing places, although she now had a blanket over her shoulders to cover up. Still, there was no denying her elegance, and the self-assuredness stamped in every inch of her person. Dacey disliked her on site. She had come across all sorts of people in her work. Each had varying degrees of insecurities, arrogance, fear and cockiness. Something about Cersei Lannister was too confident, something that felt too entitled. She looked at Dacey as if she were a lowly peasant, a sneer curling her naturally berry lips as she looked pointedly at her store-bought suit and blouse.

Dacey was used to this. She made a show of fiddling with the doorknob before flipping through the folder. Cersei’s eyes tracked her from the top of her short, dark bob, her slim shoulders, down to her feet encased in low-heeled ankle boots. As expected, Cersei tilted her head and drawled, “When a man can’t do the job, send a woman in.”

Dacey glanced at her and continued to look at the folder. Cersei stared at her a moment longer before she started squirming.

“This display—whatever you’re doing, Miss. . .?”

“It’s Detective Mormont, actually,” Dacey answered, pulling out the chair from under the table and sitting on it. She shut the folder and placed it on the table, her hands folded casually over it. “How are you doing, Mrs. Umber?”

“Don’t call me by that name.”

“Oh. Forgive me. Lannister, isn’t it?”

“You know, if you’re going to ask questions, ask them now. You’re turning out to be one boring person.” Cersei smiled. “I’d gouge your eyes out just for that. Might make you look prettier.”

“Did you just threaten me, Ms. Lannister?”

“At this point, Detective Mormont, nothing you say or do will scare me.”

“You’re a brave woman. I thought that about you.” Dacey leaned back on the chair and regarded her coolly. “Beautiful as well. You’re rich. Powerful. What the hell are you doing in this shithole, I wonder?”

Cersei smirked.

Dacey glanced at the folder. Cersei’s gaze fell there too. 

“My brother is very powerful,” Cersei told her.

“But he’s not here now, is he?”

Again, another smile from Cersei. It was almost warm, almost friendly, if not for the undercurrent of savagery. Dacey shuddered, hoping she wasn’t obvious.

“What do you propose, Detective Mormont?” 

“Nothing. But I’d like to help, anyway. See,” she tapped on the folder. “It says here that your son, Tyrek Umber, was in Jaime’s room last night. He hasn’t been seen all day, which is very suspicious, don’t you think? We also conducted a test on Jaime’s blood and he has Sweetsleep there. You have a prescription for the drunk. And only you. We checked, Ms. Lannister.”

As Dacey was speaking, Cersei jerked away, glaring at her. She continued.

“Now it’s interesting that when I first entered the room a few minutes ago, you mentioned how when a man fails a woman steps in. If you believe that, why did you send your son to do the dirty work? Deny it all you want, Cersei, but he had something to do with Brienne’s disappearance. It’s written here in black and white,” she added, tapping the folder again. She saw Cersei hold her breath. “Now, the police have been tipped off about his possible involvement and they’re scouring every inch of Lannisport and Casterly Rock looking for him. Everyone is eager to please your powerful brother. I heard what he did to you. Do you think just because you’re in the police station, surrounded by these walls you’re safe?”

Cersei, her eyes blazing, hissed, “You lie.”

Dacey shook her head slowly. “I wish I am. I also know that if Tyrek shows any resistance he’s to be shot on sight. My chief’s orders. But we know who’s pulling the strings, don’t we?” When Cersei continued to stare wordlessly at her, she asked, “You love your son, don’t you, Cersei?”

Cersei’s eyes were moist.

“Help me save him. He’s an innocent in all this, isn’t he? I know that. You know it. He doesn’t deserve to be gunned down. We have to protect him, you and I, but I won’t know how unless you help me.” Dacey delivered the killing blow. “Just as a Lannister always pays debts, a lioness protects her cub. Or are you just going to let him die?”

It was almost remarkable how Cersei’s face, first an unyielding, cruel mask, slowly crumpled into a pink, teary mess. Addam Marbrand couldn’t tear his eyes away as he made the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyrek and Selyene's motivation is to keep Jon safe, whom we now know is being held hostage by Qyburn, along with Gerion. They didn't alert anyone in Casterly Rock of the situation because Cersei calls on Qyburn every hour. If she doesn't call, he's to kill Jon. I thought to make that clear.
> 
> Gerion was always going to come back. If you remember in an early chapter, he was the one who rescued Jaime when he got stranded at sea. We'll see if he'll do something like that now but at the moment, Tywin has taken over that role.
> 
> I made Dacey into a mom here. Nope, her kids and the Dad will never be shown. I wanted to highlight that there are ways to tap into what little good Cersei has and that's being a Mom although she is completely fucked up (bravo, woman, for having a boy beaten up so that sweet Tommen would grow a spine). Addam Marbrand can't do that.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. I wish to post an update of Westeros Central Agency this week but I'm having internet connectivity issues. It's a long chapter and my connection will crash every time I try. I have better luck with shorter chapters of my other work. It may be that the latest WCA update is shit and the resulting crashes tell me to fix it.


	6. Unravel

_Thirteen hours ago_  
At some point during sleep, Brienne ended up resting nearly her entire body on Jaime. It had become a normal thing to seek him as she struggled to sleep as the little one moved actively inside her. She wasn’t sure if the baby moved so to bring her mother close to her father or it was the way of things, to turn to Jaime. She was careful because she could crush him but he didn’t seem to mind since he didn’t move away from her.

Jaime was flat on his back, snoring softly. His breath brushed her cheek. He lay with his arms flung to the sides, one pinned under her, legs spread. The little one was moving again, seeming to tell Brienne to favor her left so that’s what she did. Shifting to her other side, he moved along with her, as if pulled by a string. She sighed as his breath feathered her nape, his arm resting on her hip. She curled her leg over a pillow and closed her eyes. 

She drifted off to sleep. 

Just before the final drop to the sweet promise of a sleep long denied, there came the familiar pressure in her bladder. Brienne couldn’t stifle the loud, protesting groan dragged from her lips. Jaime mumbled and pushed his nose deeper into her hair. He moved listlessly behind her, smacking his lips, his hand settling around the aching mound of her breast. “Wench?”

“I have to pee,” she complained, whimpering. She felt him kiss her on the shoulder before patting her sleepily on the arm in some way of comfort. Eyebrows drawn together, she fumbled for the lamp and flicked it on. As she winced from the sudden shaft of light in the room, Jaime this time groaned and turned away. She glanced back to see him yanking a pillow over his head and curling his body as if in fear of the light. She rolled her eyes and, grunting, heaved herself up to sitting position. The pressure in her bladder increased.

She plunked heavily on the toilet just in time. It was like unleashing a waterfall. On and on it went and when she was almost convinced she was going to fall asleep with her pants to her ankles, sitting on blasted toilet filling it with her pee, she ran dry. Finally. She patted herself dry gently with toilet paper and stood up to go back to bed.  
As soon as she was out of the bathroom, a strong, cool breeze smelling and tasting of salt hit her. Brienne turned and saw that the door to the terrace was open. Frowning, she went to close it when a tall figure suddenly appeared from behind it. She cried out, heart dropping to her stomach, the floor, as she reared back sharply.

“Please,” came a soft, familiar voice. The figure approached her and she blinked Tyrek Umber’s blond hair lit by moonlight. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What the hell—you frightened me!” Brienne exclaimed, looking behind her to see if Jaime had been jolted awake. To her surprise, he remained asleep.

“He’s out.” Tyrek explained.

Turning back to him, she demanded, “What do you mean?”

Tyrek stepped closer and she stepped back. He really did look like Jaime though his face still had a boyish quality. His green eyes were big. A glint caught her eye and she stilled when she saw the knife he held.

“What’s this? What are you doing?” She asked, quickly putting an arm around her belly.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Brienne. That’s you name, right? I’m so sorry we’re meeting like this.” Tyrek did sound apologetic. Brienne wondered why Jaime never told her that his cousin was off his rails. “It’s my Dad.”

“What about your Dad? What’s with the knife, Tyrek?”

“Mom’s threatened to kill him.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Brienne said, her lungs finding air and resuming the breathing she hadn’t been aware stopped. “Your grandfather is having her watched.”  
“You don’t understand. She left someone back in Last Hearth. She calls him every hour. If she doesn’t he’s instructed to kill my Dad.” 

Brienne stared at the blade than back at him. “I’m sorry. Tyrek, we’ll tell Tywin. We’ll get help—“

“No!” He suddenly said loudly. “Mom said if I—if I make you disappear, she’ll let him go.”

She stared at him. “Excuse me? Did you just say you’re going to make me disappear?”

Tyrek pointed the knife at her. “I don’t want to do this. But my Dad.”

Brienne looked at Jaime again. Tyrek shook his head.

“I drugged him. I was standing in the terrace listening for hours.”

Brienne glanced at the door. Tyreky moved and grabbed her, the edge of the knife grazing her throat. 

Suddenly, the reality of what was happening hit her. Tears sprang in her eyes. “Please don’t hurt my baby. I beg you, please. I swear on my life I will help you and no harm will come to Jon but please, Tyrek—“

“I have to! You have to come with me.”

“No. Tryek, there must—“

“Look, if I don’t do this, Mom promised that there’s someone in the staff who will hurt Selyne. I don’t know who it is. She didn’t say. Please.” 

Brienne shook her head and tried to move but he suddenly grabbed her. She cried out but Jaime remained unconscious. Tyrek put and arm around her chest and kept prodding the side of her neck with the knife. 

“Move.”

Her body hummed with tension. Fight, it told her. Fight. But she couldn’t move as fast as she would need to, not to mention what Tyrek might do to Jaime if she managed to escape for a bit. She also didn’t know where to go, didn’t know if her screams for help would be heard by anyone. Still, she resisted, keeping her arms around her belly that Tyrek had to shove her slightly to get her moving towards the terrace.

Outside, the evening air was cold. Brienne shivered as she was wearing only a threadbare, short-sleeved t-shirt, old pajama bottoms. Her feet were bare. As they walked, Tyrek’s arm wrapped around her, the knife still pressed and scratching her neck. 

It was a long walk, past so many doors, all closed or shut, the rooms behind them black as night. When they reached the stairs, Tyrek said, “You go first. I trust you won’t do anything, Brienne. I can easily push you down the stairs.”

She nodded. “I’ll do anything you want. Just please don’t hurt my baby.” 

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Tyrek surprised her by pulling out a rope from his pocket. Brienne this time tried to resist but once again, the knife was at her neck, the blade this time scratching her skin. There was nothing she could do but let him tie her up, wrap a gag around her mouth. He bound her with her arms at her back, then slid what appeared to be noose around her neck and then tugged her after him. The cool sand and the breeze made her shiver even more.

Casterly Rock looked out into the Sunset Sea. The Lannisters owned a part of it, as well as nearly half of the beach. Brienne shivered as Tyrek yanked her behind him. As she tried to maintain her balance, she noticed two sailboats. Both were white and sleek, almost looking like a slice of a dream in the indigo-gray night if not for the terror paralyzing her and making her heart go into overdrive. They were named Brightroar and Silver Queen.

Brienne hissed as she stepped into water, soaking the bottoms of her pajamas. Tyrek pulled her up after him.

“I don’t want to do this,” he told her again, his eyes pleading that she understand. “But I have to.” 

She glared at him. Through her gag, she grumbled, “Fuck you.”

Tyrek pulled her after him again and brought her below deck.

 

_Now_

Tyrek hung his head. “After that, I thought things would be okay. I was thinking to just knock out Brienne and stow her somewhere in the boat. That was my plan. I didn’t want to hurt her.”

Naharis looked bored, clearly unaffected by his shaking voice and the regret on his face. “I’m guessing things didn’t go according to plan.”

“Mom was waiting. With—I don’t know hm. She mentioned that someone in the staff is loyal to her but I’ve never seen the guy. He must be new. But he wasn’t dressed like them. Not the uniform.” Tyrek said.

“Can you describe him?”

He nodded. “I remember him.”

Tyrion, who was sitting on a pink armchair, said, “Then what happened, Tyrek?”

Tyrek suddenly pleaded, “You have to understand. I didn’t know she was going to be there.”

“Who? Your mother?”

“I was never going to hurt Brienne.” As he spoke, he looked at Selyne, who was sitting beside him on the bed. “Gods, I never wanted to hurt her. But as soon as we got below deck and Mom was there and that guy—“

 

_Cersei’s face was almost ugly twisted as it was as she stared hatefully at Brienne. Brienne reeled back, her blue eyes wide at the man standing behind Cersei. The other woman smirked as the man walked around her._

_Tyrek, confused, demanded, “What’s the meaning of this?”_

_“You,” the man hissed at Brienne before giving her a hard shove that sent her right against the wall. Tyrek shouted in protest while Cersei snapped, “Be quiet.”  
Tyrek was horrified as the man’s hand wrapped around Brienne’s throat. “You did this. I told Oberyn you’re too good to be true, Brienne. He was addicted on your so-called innocence. You proved him wrong, didn’t you, fucking Lannister behind his back. You couldn’t keep your legs shut long enough to do what I had to do.” Suddenly, he released her but backhanded her. Tyrek shouted again and threw himself between Brienne and the wall, catching her._

_“Mom!” He yelled at Cersei as he held Brienne. “Stop!”_

_“That woman took you and your sister away from me.” Cersei hissed. “How dare you protect her?”_

 

“I tried, I really did,” Tyrek sobbed. “But Mom threatened to hurt Selyne if I intervened again. She locked me out of the room, told me to start the boat and drive. I could hear them. I heard every time Brienne was hit, every time she groaned. I went away inside.”

Tyrion, however, had no sympathy for his cousin. Cersei was worse than poison—she was a virus infecting everyone she came across. Tyrion wasn’t as surprised as he should be that she was capable of such cruelty, and to rope her children into that. Still, Tyrek was an adult. His father and sister were in danger, and he tried, he said. He tried to save Brienne. 

_No, you didn’t try hard enough._

He stared at him in disgust and said, “Then what happened.”

“I have no idea how long we were out in the water. Mom came up and she told me to stop. I saw Brienne. She wasn’t gagged and tied up anymore but her face had bruises. She was standing up. I pleaded that we take her back to Casterly Rock, I said she could keep quiet. And I don’t know, something happened with Mom. She—she smiled.” Tyrek shook his head. “Then she turned to the guy and I don’t know, they probably have a signal.”

“What did she do?” Naharis demanded. He too was not sympathetic.

Tyrek took a deep breath. “This is why I deserve every punishment there is. They pushed her overboard.” 

 

As soon as handcuffs were slapped on Tyrek, Naharis and Tyrion were off., leaving him with a cartographic sketch artist. The thunderstorm had eased though there were still scattered raindrops and the sky was still gray. Naharis radioed the coast guard and air support and Tyrion looked and asked around for Jaime and his father.

The storm had raged for over two hours. No one could pinpoint where they were until Tyrion headed for the beach and discovered Brightroar was nowhere to be found. Just then, one of the detectives came up to him.

“The coast guard radioed them to come back but they didn’t,” he was told.

Tyrion ran as fast as he could, shouting for Detective Naharis. When at last he found the man, he quickly told him what had happened. Naharis cursed and turned to the radio.

“Update. We’re now searching for three people in the water. Jaime and Tywin Lannister. They’re in their boat, Brightroar.” He turned to Tyrion. “Are either of them good on water?”

“We all learned to sail before we walked.”

“Let’s hope you don’t exaggerate.”

Tyrion called Kevan and Genna into Tywin’s office to alert them of new developments. As Kevan and Genna looked shocked at Tyrek’s involvement, Selyne entered the study.   
Pale and her face splotchy, she looked at her aunt and uncle before settling her eyes on Tyrion.

“Dear, you should be in your room,” Genna told her.

“You have to let me help,” Selyne told Tyrion. “I’m just as accountable as Tyrek. I would do what he did in an instant.”

“You have to stay behind to be on alert for what the police will find about Jon,” Tyrion answered. They were still awaiting word from Naharis’ contacts in Last Hearth.  
“Tyrion, don’t ask me to stay behind and hang out by the phone. Let me help. Let me do something.”

“The storm could still return. Even the coast guard isn’t too keen to be out on the water!”

“I can sail, just as well as you, and everyone else in this room,” Selyne declared. “I know Tyrek left the boat at the marina. We have to do something. You can’t honestly think that sitting around waiting for news would do anything?”

Tyrion was itching to head to the water and look for his brother and father. He hoped they had found Brienne and maybe ran out of gas, hence their prolonged absence. He refused to let go of this wishful thinking.

“Our family is out there. Brienne is out there. My—my half-sister or my half-brother is out there,” Selyne’s eyes watered but she stubbornly refused to shed a single tear. “If you’re not going to get off your asses to get them back, I am.”


	7. Just Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update at last! Thank you for your patience.

The white glare shining even right through his closed eyes should be enough warning but they opened wide and shocked, nevertheless. Gerion groaned and quickly turned away, only to be hampered by restraints around his arms and legs. He squinted and groaned against the wall, breathing fast and hard before he jammed his bent knees to propel himself to turn around. 

Jon Umber sat on the other end of the study, now tied to the chair. There was a large bruise on the side of his head but his face was not as boody as Gerion remembered. There was a strong, antiseptic smell emanating from him and Gerion wrinkled his nose in distaste. Wincing again, he tried to lift himself to a sitting position but failed.

“Seven fucking hells,” he muttered in frustration.

“Remain there if you can,” Jon retorted. “I’ve gone beyond.”

“What the fuck happened?” Gerion demanded. His head hurt.

“You have to be clear,” Jon replied. “Do you mean who hit you, who hit me, how we ended up here?” Then his glib tone vanished as he continued, “Or do you mean how you ended up fucking your sister and passing of your son as mine?”

Gerion groaned under his breath and stared dully at Jon. 

Cersei never liked the man, unleashing a storm of angry tears when Tywin ordered her to strengthen the alliance between the Lannisters and Umbers through marriage. The fortune she collected from her divorce from Rhaegar Targaryen gave her the independence she always wanted. Marriage, to anyone, was another trap and Cersei rebelled, she did. But Tywin threatened to cut her off and that was her weakness: money and what she believed to be her share for what she’d done for the family.

Gerion liked Jon but felt sorry for the clear misery his twin sister was in stuck in a hated marriage in the even more hated north. He would visit when he could. Cersei would be brought back to life then and as his departure approached, begged him, crying beautifully, to stay. Every time he paid a visit, she would plead for him to stay. 

Cersei was a difficult person in many ways: difficult to please, difficult to love, difficult, difficult. She also possessed a streak of cruelty much like Tywin’s. But where Tywin used it carefully, conservatively, having the wisdom to realize that one must work with certain rivals to succeed, Cersei relished being cruel. Gerion saw it when she had Lancel’s au pair beaten up when she found out her affair with Tywin. The poor girl had ended up with a broken nose and clavicle, and hushed up with Lannister money. Still, probably because she was his twin, Gerion was devoted to Cersei. 

Such was his devotion that when he couldn’t take her teary pleas anymore, he not only stayed another week at Last Hearth. He fought the chill of the north from between her legs. It was wrong. She was his sister—his twin sister. But she stopped crying. Every kiss revived her, every spurt of his cock in her cunt the antidote to her loneliness. It was wrong but Gerion would push her to meet him and she enjoyed lying to Jon about being away for days, sometimes weeks. She passed off her so-called exotic travels with the headiest perfumes when in fact it was two weeks in Gerion’s bed, sucking his cock, fucking his cock. She returned to Jon with her cunt still coated with Gerion’s seed. 

Gerion had not known about the other men. He knew about Tyrek from the beginning, noticing that Cersei’s full breasts were rounder, her nipples bigger. “Get rid of it,” he told her once it was confirmed. 

“Nothing would please me more than to fuck Jon and Tywin with this child,” Cersei declared, brazen as ever. “This is my child and you will never have a say about it.”

“I’m not going to defend myself,” Gerion told Jon. “It was wrong yet I still took part.”

“If you think you’re forgiven being a fucking martyr, think again.” Jon struggled against the bonds and hissed. “This is all because of what you and that woman did.”  
Remembering his reason for coming here, Gerion demanded, “Where are the children?”

“Who knows,” Jon answered, paling when the door started to open. Gerion turned weakly and saw the man met him at the gate earlier. He had a tray with two bowls and two glasses in it. 

“The children,” Jon demanded to him. “Where are they? What have you done?”

“Your children are safe, Mr. Umber,” the man answered as he put the tray on the desk. “Ms. Lannister has instructed me to see to your meal.” 

“What exactly are you doing with my sister that you have to tie us up?” Gerion growled. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man smiled benignly, a grandfatherly smile but it chilled Gerion to the bone. His eyes were gray and dead.

“The name is Qyburn.” 

 

“I know the captain of the Last Hearth Police Department,” Marbrand told Dacey as they stood in his office, watching through the two-way glass Cersei Lannister. She was pacing back and forth, clutching the coat Marbrand had given her earlier. “We should hear from them soon.”

“What kind of mind do you have,” Dacey spoke out loud, “to have a pregnant woman beaten up and thrown to the sea, to threaten the father of your children and force your children to carry out your mad plan?”

Addam looked at her and shrugged. “Maybe the question is whether someone who would do that could still call herself human.”

“She looks broken,” Dacey observed but her eyes were sharp. “But we know better than that. She’s been playing us.”

“Despite knowing that, we’re still beaten either way. We thought to appeal to her as a mother and she clearly let us think that. If we give her the slightest impression that her son is in danger, she’s never going to tell us exactly what happened.”

“Daario is still investigating the whole staff?”

Marbrand nodded but sighed. “The Lannisters employ a head gardener and five under him, a head butler and six other staff members reporting under him, three chefs. Kevan and Tyrion Lannister are working with the security agency to supply them with a list of guards that were in Casterly Rock in the past six months.” As Dacey’s expression went from surprise to disbelief, he sighed again. “There’s no way we can narrow it down and cross-reference. The other detectives are checking on them too, as well as going over her financials. She’s rich but poor when compared to the other Lannisters.”

“In the meantime there’s a missing pregnant woman, some guy holding Jon Umber hostage, and another working for Cersei in Casterly Rock. Are we even sure whoever it is works there? What if it’s somebody from the company?”

“Tywin Lannister is a successful businessman but he didn’t get there by being nice.”

“I can look into it.” Dacey glanced back at Cersei.

Marbrand was grim and stared at her. “She’s never getting out of here.”

As Dacey rang up a list of Lannister Corporation employees, Addam Marbrand entered the interrogation room. As chief of police he rarely did this now. But then, not all cases involved the family that built and established Casterly Rock. And hardly did the cases that they worked on involved a missing pregnant woman. 

Cersei looked at him as she stood against the wall, arms crossed. Addam looked at her from head to toe than said, “You should sit down.”

“More questions? How are my children?” 

“You’ve been lying, Cersei,” Addam declared as he sat down, ignoring her raised eyebrow at his behaviour. He looked at her again. “Sit.”

She looked like she was going to mock him but thought better. She pulled out her chair and sat down.

“My children,” she repeated.

“We have reason to believe that you got out of the pool house at some point during the previous night,” Marbrand began. “This despite our having examined every nook and cranny in the pool house and its blueprints. There are no trap doors, nor secret passageways of any kind. That tells us somebody has been helping you.”

“My son was upset his mother was locked up like some animal.”

“Most animals don’t sleep in thousand-thread-count sheets. And we both know,” Marbrand told her softly, “that it wasn’t your son.”

She smiled coolly. “You weren’t there.”

“You know, I am wondering where Tyrek got his fear of law enforcement,” Marbrand said conversationally. Sure enough, a muscle under Cersei’s cheek twitched but she kept the rest of her face blank. “He’s been every cooperative. He certainly didn’t get it from you. It’s not looking good for him, given what he’s done, but I think we can get the ADA to be a little lenient.”

“My son is a Lannister,” Cersei shot back hotly. “He has no need for leniency. He knows no fear.”

Using the rumour Ellaria told him about earlier, Marbrand said innocently, “I thought he’s an Umber. Unless there’s something you want to tell me?”

Cersei glared at him.

“Needless to say, we’re getting more information as we speak. I’m just here to check off on what I’ve been told. The man you left with your ex-husband,” he said, “is in the custody of the Last Hearth Police. He’s not talking but Jon Umber’s remains is more than enough evidence.”

Cersei’s eyes sparkled. They actually sparkled. Marbrand was going to require a chemical bath after this.

“Tyrek and Selyne, your children, right—they told me what happened. Everything that happened from the moment you arrived at Last Hearth until that walk of shame earlier. Then of course,” he said slowly, relishing the syllables like taffy, “Brienne Tarth is also talking.”

Cersei inhaled sharply. She looked. . . _exhilarated._

_The Seven fuck me. She looks like she just got a taste of the most exotic drug._

“She’s bruised and a little disoriented but she confirms what your son said.” 

“You’re lying.”

“As we speak, my detectives are close to identifying the man with you on the boat. Your son worked with a sketch artist and his drawing is in the news. Brienne is also being shown photos.”

“If she’s disoriented when she makes her identification, my lawyers will throw it out.”

“The thing is, Cersei, even if we don’t catch the guy, we have you. And you’re the one who’s lying. We both know that you can’t afford a good lawyer right now. Any lawyer. The Umbers will not help you. Tyrek is off to prison. Selyne is off to a correctional facility for young adults. Your family has washed their hands off you.” 

She was frowning but declared, “I don’t believe you.”

“You’re looking at kidnapping, assault, conspiracy, breaking in, breach of contract, violated the terms and conditions of your divorce, fraud—the list goes on, Cersei. You’re looking at twenty to twenty-five minimum.”

Cersei chuckled. “You think that frightens me?”

“No,” Marbrand stood up. “I’ve been in this job long enough that nothing frightens the condemned. I thought you might help yourself a bit but you obviously don’t care.” He pulled out his phone and pretended to look at it thoughtfully. He grinned and said to her, “Well. Looks like we found our man.”

“Tyrek would never! I’m his mother!” Cersei yelled, slamming her fist on the table. 

“It wasn’t any of your children.”

 

_The Father save me.  
The Mother have mercy.  
The Warrior---_

A violent shudder wracked Brienne’s body for the nth time that day. She sniffled and clung to the buoy with her diminishing strength. 

After being hit for the last time, she slammed onto the water with a gasp. She had been unprepared and swallowed sea water as she plummeted deeper and deeper to its darkening depths. The cool water was a balm to her aching head and face but she still had to give it all her strength to kick and push until her head broke through the surface. 

The boat was a dot by the time she did. She tried following it but it was either too fast or her faculties slowed down by the repeated blows to her head. She swam as much as she could before her arms and legs tired out and she ended up floating on her back. The sun was beginning to rise by then.

When she was rested enough, she started swimming again. That is, until she realized that though she might remember in which direction she last saw the boat, the waves were strong and who knows if she was following the correct course? And how far away was she to still not have seen a glimpse of Casterly Rock?   
That was when it hit her: not only was she lost at sea.

She was in the open water.

And pregnant.

Panic seized her throat, tighter than Petyr Baelish’s grip earlier. She didn’t know which direction to go. Had no idea where she was. How long she had been swimming. She could have been swimming in circles for hours.

She cried then. She was afraid, for herself and for her little one. Her innocent little one. She remembered clutching her stomach as Cersei hit her and scratched her. They could do whatever they wanted, she had thought, as long as her baby was unhurt. 

So much for that. They were in the open water. 

She gave in to the tears, heaving, violent sobs as she thought of Jaime, their little one, then Jaime, then their little one. How could the gods still think they haven’t gone through enough already? She screamed then, angrily, punching the water uselessly. What more did they have to prove? At whose expense? She screamed and raged until she tasted blood at the back of her tongue. The sun had dried her tears, her cheeks were cracked and painful from the sunburn. She resumed swimming. Swimming and swimming until her arms were tired. 

Swimming and swimming until her arms were tired. The sun was burning at her back when saw something bright red bobbing in the water. A buoy! She gathered what little strength remained and surged the rest of the way until she was touching it. Given how long she had been swimming, the presence of the buoy told her she had been either way past the Sunset Sea or had just approached its end. She hugged the buoy desperately. It was her only hope to survive.

Exhausted, thirsty and hungry, she couldn’t resist from falling asleep, leaning her forehead against the buoy as the sea rocked her body gently. She was on the verge of falling asleep when a chill suddenly settled in the air. Her teeth chattered as she struggled to heave herself up, still clutching at the buoy until she had her arms and legs wrapped around it. She hissed as cool air slammed into her and she looked at the sky.

If she had been afraid earlier, she was terrified now. The sky was choked with clouds so gray and dark they appeared black. Then it fell, a storm of needle-sharp bits of water with the loudest thunders slashing violently into the sky. She debated between throwing herself back into the water, fearing about getting struck by lightning that option was no better. As the storm continued to unleash its might, the sea tossed her and the buoy as if they were mere toys. She started crying again, praying to the gods for her grip not to slip, clutching her legs tightly around it. They rattled and turned in the sea helpless and insignificant. She closed her eyes and kept them this way until the surging rain stopped. 

When she opened her eyes, she saw the pale pillar of the sun breaking through the clouds.

They had made it. She wept then, in relief and some joy because she was still alive. She rubbed her stomach, whispering, “It’s going to be okay. They will find us.”   
She rested her forehead against the buoy again, still holding it with her entire body. Her clothes were wet, her skin was covered in goosebumps. The beam of sunlight widened and soon more joined it. The gentle waves of the sea began rocking them again, turning them so her back was facing the sun.

As Brienne allowed herself some rest, a familiar, sharp pain suddenly seized her by the spine and crushed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you've suspected, the other guy in the boat is Petyr Baelish.


	8. My Love

With the situation at Casterly Rock escalating, Tyrion sent in for Gregor Clegane and Missandei. As instructed, they came with a complete list of employees under the Lannister Group of Companies and turned it over to the police. They only needed little direction before Tyrion sent them off to their assignments: Gregor coordinating whatever the police might need from the staff at home, Missandei monitoring reports from the Coast Guard and plugging media leaks regarding Brienne’s disappearance if and when needed. 

Due to his involvement, Tyrion didn’t stop the police from putting handcuffs on Tyrek and taking him down to the police station for further questioning. Kevan and Genna didn’t completely agree with this course of action but for Tyrion, this was one thing he didn’t have to worry about for now. He was beginning to have a headache keeping an eye on everything and giving Detective Naharis and the police access to the property and the staff. Then there was also how, an hour after the storm had cleared, there was still no word from either Jaime or Tyrion. Air support had been provided and Tyrion also sent the Lannister helicopter, with Lancel providing extra eyes to the pilot as they scanned the sea for either Brightroar or Brienne. 

Selyne, while not having any actual involvement to Brienne’s kidnapping, was nevertheless confined to her room with a guard keeping an eye on her. She didn’t resist, like her brother. Neither had asked about Cersei. Selyne had mercifully shut up about Jon Umber after being told that Last Hearth police had been sent to his house to check on him. 

Gregor had just finished updating Tyrion when Daario approached him. The detective was holding out his cellphone.

“The sketches of the man with Cersei in the boat and the one she left with her ex,” he said. “You know them?”

Tyrion didn’t have to look very hard. “That’s Petyr Baelish,” he said, barely controlling his anger. “He’s an accountant.” He told Daario about his nefarious activities with his client, Brienne’s ex-husband Oberyn Martell. He added that Cersei was another client.

“We suspect that they’re involved. That he’s also the one who told Martell about her affair with my brother.”

Naharis nodded. “You filed a lawsuit against him.”

“Which we have no intention of pursuing. It was just a tactic to make Martell sign the divorce papers. That son of a bitch assaulted Brienne, wanted to rob her of her home and gave her and my brother hell for months.” Tyrion’s mismatched eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t put it past Oberyn Martell to be involved again.”

“We’ll check on it. You don’t know the other guy?” Naharis swiped a finger on the screen again and showed him the photo of a man with a thin face and grave, round eyes. “Never seen him before?”

“He looks like a corpse. No. Never.”

“My men are running a check on him. Your aunt refuses to say who he is.” 

Tyrion smirk was nasty. “She fears no one. But maybe if you threaten to cut her up she’ll start singing. It’s the only thing she’s good for.”  
The phone rang and Naharis excused himself. At that moment, Missandei was rushing toward Tyrion.

“The Coast Guard has made contact with your family,” she told him. 

“My father and Jaime?” Tyrion wanted to be clear.

“Yes. They have them on now. Communication is garbled still from the storm but they’re still talking. Come on,” Missandei told him. Tyrion followed her. 

“Hold on, you have to repeat that,” Naharis was telling Dacey over the phone. “I don’t understand it.”

“I have a hit on one name in the Lannister company,” she said, clearly annoyed that he was slow on the uptake. She sounded almost giddy. “She’s bailed him out a couple of times. Daario, there’s something there. I’ll bet my favourite fucking teddy bear. He’s the one. Where’s Lancel Lannister?”

 

“---the fuck—you?” Tyrion was clearly shouting. 

Tywin frowned at the radio and snapped. “You’re not too old to have our mouth washed with soap, son.”

More garbled words came from Tyrion. Tywin snarled under his breath and yelled the coordinates of their present position. “The boat’s survived and we’re fine. We’re resuming the search,” he added. “Copy?”

“—y. Fath—r—you?” It was Tyrion again.

As Tywin shouted at the radio again, Jaime continued to scan the sea with binoculars.

It was foolish and idiotic to refuse to return to shore when the storm hit but with Jaime at the wheel of the boat, there was nothing Tywin could do. He was not leaving until Brienne was found and alright. She had to be alright. 

Jaime was skilled at handling a boat but storms had felled even the most experienced. Despite his determination to never return to Casterly Rock until Brienne was in his arms, the storm unleashed was straight out of Seven Hells. The cloudless sky was suddenly choked with thick clouds so dark they were almost black. The sun was suddenly snuffed out. As the waves became choppy and rose higher and higher, the sky seemed to take a deep breath before regurgitating violently toward them.

Father and son yelled and swore. There was no way to go back. They would have to ride this out. They took turns turning the wheel, adjusting the sails, anything to keep the boat upright. Water got in and Jaime couldn’t count the many times they slipped and fell. As they struggled to keep the sails up, a howling wind began to tear through them. Terror unlike any other hit Jaime right then. Not for them. For Brienne.

He swore and wept vows to the Seven. Anything. Everything. All he wanted was for Brienne to be safe. He called on the Mother, most of the all. His mother. 

When the storm began to ease, he allowed himself to start feeling a little bit of relief. Tywin’s displeasure hit him like a physical blow but Jaime didn’t care. They had just survived a storm, barely, and here they were on a boat. What about Brienne? If she was still alive, a small voice crept in his head said. It was the Stranger, come to give him a warning, maybe. 

Jaime had to believe the gods wouldn’t be so cruel—to tear away from him the very reasons for living. He refused to pray that if the worst had happened, at least it was quick. He couldn’t. Even if he should ready himself for that likely possibility.

Still looking through the binoculars, he heard Tywin approach. Jaime lowered them and glanced at his father.

“The search is back on,” he said. Jaime nodded, hearing the soft roar of a helicopter still some distance away. Or was it the sea? The screaming in his heart refusing to give up? “We’re approaching the border of the Sunset Sea, son.”

Jaime understood what was not being said. “She’s out there. She’s alive.”

Tywin wisely kept his mouth shut.

An hour passed. This time Tywin was looking through the binoculars and Jaime was navigating. The sky was clear and blue again. The sun falling on the water made it gleam like sapphires. Almost as brilliant as the guileless gaze of his beloved. 

His heart constricted painfully in his chest and he gasped. He had to believe. They couldn’t have gone through all they have only for Brienne to be taken away.

Up ahead, Jaime spied the red buoys that marked the border of the Sunset Sea. He squinted at them through the white glare of the sun. With a hand over his eyes, he stared at them.

Suddenly, Tywin shouted. “Seven Bloody Hells! Jaime, turn the boat around. She’s over there!”

Jaime ran to him. “Where?”

He didn’t give his father time to remove the binoculars from his person. Jaime took them, yanking Tywin close to his side, and looked.  
Gods. There she was. Her blond hair almost white under the sun. Her body turned to side, hugging the buoy to her while a frail arm waved at them weakly.

 _“Brienne!”_ Jaime screamed. 

“We have to go get here, radio for help. Turn the boat, Jaime—“

Jaime kicked off his shoes and dived in. “Brienne!” He shouted again as his head broke through the surface. His arms and legs knifed through the water. He yelled for her again and again until he was close enough to see her crying. She was crying. She was alive!

He reached the buoy and Brienne and she sobbed. “Jaime.”

“I’m here,” he said, heaving himself up and hugging her. Oh, gods, she was alive. Still clinging to the buoy with her other arm, Jaime ended up hugging it with her. The metal was hot against his damp flesh but he didn’t care. Brienne breathed harshly in his ear as he kissed her, needing to touch and taste her to believe that this was really happening. He hugged her stiff, hard body, weeping in joy.

As if reading his mind, she whispered, “You’d better be real.”

Jaime swept her rough, brittle hair from her face. She was redder than a lobster and looked a little dazed. No vision could be sweeter. “I am if you are,” he replied, kissing her on the cheek then her lips. She grunted against him but didn’t push him away. His tongue swiped at the cracked, tender flesh, tasting salt. “Wench. My wench.” His wet hands climbed to her face. He stared into the most beautiful eyes in the world. 

She frowned and hissed, ““Jaime, I—“

“Hush. You’re dehydrated. You’re weak. Save your energy, my love.” He couldn’t stop kissing and touching her.

She shook her head and turned away. “We have to hurry.”

Jaime waved at Tywin, who was driving the boat toward them. “Hurry up, Dad!”

“No.” Brienne gripped his arm. Her hold was surprisingly strong given her condition. Jaime looked at her curiously. “Y-You don’t understand.”  
Her eyes were watery but not from tears of joy or fear. Something else. Her lower lip trembled violently. Then Jaime’s nose picked up a scent. Sharp. Metallic. As icy fingers gripped his spine, he dared to lower his eyes to her legs.

Her pajamas were wet but there was blood on them. And the water.

“It hurts, Jaime,” she whined, her grip tightening.

Realizing what was happening, Jaime growled at Tywin to hurry up. He had no time for shock, let alone fear. It took only a few seconds but it felt like hours. “She’s having contractions.” He snapped to his father as soon as he was close. As Tywin paled, he turned to Brienne. “How long?”

She grunted. “I don’t know. I mean, they started a while ago. But. . .but maybe in the last fifteen minutes maybe they’ve been..oh, Gods. . .shorter.” She bit her lower lip as a spasm overtook her body. “J-Jaime, please.”

Jaime barely heard Tywin yelling over the radio about their current situation. He kissed Brienne again, and then gently, carefully, told her what they had to do. He was going to have to remove her from the buoy. They would have to go into the water. “Just for a teeny bit, love,” he said, kissing her again as she shook her head. Then he and Tywin would put her in the boat, he continued, hoping he sounded calm.

He had no idea if she should be moved, no idea how close she was to giving birth. But she could definitely not do it in the water, especially in the open water. Brienne kept shaking her head, terrified about having to move. “Please, Brienne,” he pleaded with her. “We have to. For the baby. My love, for the little one, please.”

He had to extricate her grip from the buoy one finger at a time.

Brienne started to cry. He was crying too but he started pulling her away, carefully. “Just for a moment, wench. I promise. Just for a moment. You and the little one will be alright.” He kissed her on her painful lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jaime.”

He nodded then said, “Then do this for me?”

She looked in his eyes and nodded weakly.

Tywin was running across the boat toward them. “A medical unit will be here in twenty minutes.”

We don’t fucking have twenty fucking minutes! Jaime wanted to rage. But it would be useless to resort to that. He took a deep breath and focused back on Brienne. 

“Just look at me, my love. Look at me.” He was urging her as he slowly eased back into the water. Then he held her on one side of her body. 

She was trembling. For the first time, Jaime realized that this was probably not from the cold but by her superhuman effort at controlling her screams. 

Something splashed behind them. Tywin. He swam toward them, instructing that they’ll have to have Brienne float across and toward the boat. The two men looked at each other. The challenge was in getting her up the boat. And then more. “We’ve got you, child,” Tywin said to Brienne gently.

“You can scream,” Jaime told her. “Please, if you must.”

“It’s starting,” Brienne managed to gasp before her body jerked sharply. 

Never had the Lannisters felt more helpless than now. There was nothing they could do when an aneurysm ended Joanna’s life so suddenly. There was nothing they could do when Cersei started abusing Jaime. Neither knew that for the third time they would feel helpless again, more so now. As Brienne cried out, Jaime let her hold his shoulder in a bone-crushing grip until her body relaxed and she let out quick, stuttering breaths.

“We’ll have to move you between contractions,” he said. To Tywin, he said, ‘We’ll have to be quick but take the utmost care.”

Brienne could float on her back. They kept her as upright as they could, her upper body so inclined while from the waist down was above the water. Jaime once again implored the Seven to help them. If Brienne was hit with another contraction, that meant the baby was going to be born soon. 

The boat was close but not close enough. Brienne shrieked halfway through. They two men battled to keep her up and her legs above the water. She flung her cries to the sky, rivalled the wind and the waves around them. Dread filled Jaime now. His worst fear had just been confirmed.

They grunted and heaved as they pushed and pulled Brienne as carefully as possible up the boat. Once on the floor, another contraction hit Brienne. Tywin was with her this time, an arm behind her shoulders, his hand clasping hers. Jaime shot out of the water as quickly as he could. 

He timed that the contractions were between ten minutes, maybe less. Jaime went below deck to hunt for dry clothes, anything that wouldn’t add to Brienne’s discomfort. He found a blanket and two towels, rough but they appeared clean. He rushed back to them. She would be more comfortable in a bed below but no way were they moving her now. 

Jaime spread out the blanket and they helped put her there. Tywin had to release Brienne when the Coast Guard started to make contact through the radio. He barked commands. Alone, Jaime turned to her. She was pale and clenched her fists so tightly the.bones of her knuckles looked ready to break her skin.

“Wench, I will have to look.” He told her, putting a hand on her knee.

Despite her sunburnt face, Brienne flushed. She gave him a feeble nod.

Jaime flung the towel over her and started to pull down her wet pajamas. With her legs bent and open, he looked down. He caught his breath at the shock of golden blond hair below her pale curls there, soaked and looking sticky. He should be happy but couldn’t. Not yet.

“What?” Brienne asked as he straightened up.

“The little one will be here before the chopper,” was his reply. They held hands.

Brienne sniffled. “Jaime, no. It’s too soon.”

“I know, my love.”  
“What if—what if—“

“We can not let ourselves think that. Not until this is over. Brienne, listen to me, okay? You’re going to give birth. Here. In a few minutes. Maybe as soon as I’m finished speaking. You will give birth and it will be okay. Everything will be alright. We’re doing it together.”  
“No, Jaime. Surely we can wait—“

“I’m afraid our little one is as stubborn as you, wench.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Look at me. I vow before you and the Seven that our child will be brought to the world alive and healthy. Yes, it’s not yet the time but there’s nothing to be done but welcome her. She can’t wait to be loved. I told you. Stubborn.” He took kissed it her hand as she suddenly stiffened. Pain curled her face. “People didn’t have doctors for a long time. They’ve done it on their own. We can do this.” He looked hard in her eyes. “We’re doing this.”

As they looked at each other, Tywin returned. He knelt behind Brienne. “Seven minutes,” he told them grimly.

Brienne, for the first time since the reunion, looked calm. “We don’t have seven minutes.”

Then she screamed.

She thrashed and yelled, Tywin barely able to hold on to her as her body fought to deliver a child that should have remained cocooned in it longer. He grunted as Brienne's grip crushed his arthritic hands but not once did he tell her to let go. Jaime cooed encouragement though his heart was beating too fast and painfully in his chest. He couldn’t look at Brienne because seeing her in pain would just undo him. Instead, he focused on the tiny human being pushed out of her. First, by its head.

“Push again, Brienne!”

“I—I _can’t!_ ”

“Again! You can do this!”

Brienne’s screams tore at his soul but Jaime’s resolve was steel. The baby’s upper body was out.

“Another!”

_“Jaime!”_

“Just one!”

Brienne snarled and gave a final push.

Jaime, ready with the other towel over his arms, caught the baby. As Brienne sobbed and collapsed against Tywin, Jaime gave the baby a tentative slap on the bottom. That was how they did it, right? As he stared at the warm, breathing body he held, he could hear Tywin reassuring Brienne.

A powerful cry suddenly shattered through the stillness.

Jaime was startled and nearly dropped the baby. He laughed, feeling himself shaking and crying at the same time. The baby small and frail, but his loud cries had to mean he would be stronger later on. He tenderly rubbed away fluid scattered on his body. As he did, the baby’s eyes opened. 

Sapphire. 

“He has your eyes,” he marveled, stunned at the beauty he held in his arms. _They made this life together._ This tiny, screaming human.

“We have a son?” Brienne managed to exclaim.

“Yeah, we do.” Jaime then looked at her and saw her smiling through her tears. “We have a son. Seven Hells, wench, we did it.” A violent rush of overwhelming, helpless kind of love swept through him and he stared down at the squirming bundle in his arms again. The baby stared up at him and shrieked, tiny arms nad legs thrashing.Smiling, he whispered, “We make one hell of a team. Hey there, you. Hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My depiction of the birth isn't accurate so don't take it as a how-to. It's purely my invention. I hope you like this latest chapter. I'll update again in a few days. Thank you for your patience and reading.


	9. Hear Me Roar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another twist coming up. It's the last one, I promise.

It wasn’t until close to midnight that the Lannisport Police Department closed the case. Daario Naharis couldn’t believe that the tumultuous, wild rollercoaster ride had happened in less than a day.

After launching an air rescue for Brienne Tarth, Jaime and Tywin Lannister, Naharis approached Tyrion with some damning information regarding his cousin, Lancel. He was in middle management in the company, surprising being that the family owned the business. Though he was smart, he was far from the smartest in a group. Lancel Lannister was born with the curse of remaining average, and at times even less.  
But there was an area where he was clearly taking the lead. Tyrion had been shocked at Lancel’s numerous arrests for driving while intoxicated. His license, right now, was suspended for six months and he was in driving school, as per judge’s orders. Tyrion never thought much about his cousin—he didn’t really make an impression—but this behaviour, and with no one else knowing about it was a serious cause for alarm. This and the fact that every time he was arrested, Cersei Lannister paid for his bail. 

To Tyrion’s knowledge, his aunt and cousin hardly interacted. Lancel was his age but they were never close. Still shell-shocked, he could only stared dumbly as Naharis unveiled one arrest record after the other, going as far back as fifteen years ago. He was suspected of drug use as well but it was never proven—and the case never made it to court too. The records showed too the name of his lawyer—Qyburn. Naharis had to cast a wider net to find out anything about the mysterious man. All they knew was that he started out as a doctor before a malpractice suit stripped him off his license. Then he switched to law but he would also be disbarred later on. The only visual evidence they had he existed was an expired license from seventeen years ago.

As Tyrion struggled to absorb this all, Addam Marbrand was being told by his contacts from Last Hearth about the violent shoot-out at Jon Umber’s home. Gerion Lannister suffered a fatal wound and hung between life and death. Jon Umber had been shot too but he was in better condition. The man who had held them hostage was Qyburn. A bullet between the eyebrows finished him off. The police officers sent had been shot too but they were going to be alright. 

Gregor approached Tyrion and Naharis to tell them Brienne was being airlifted to Casterly General Hospital. She had given birth to a boy. But whatever happiness Tyrion should feel was snuffed out as he saw Lancel coming toward them. 

Blond and green-eyed, tall, he had the physical features of a Lannister. Lannisters were blond, striking and beautiful. Upon closer look, Lancel’s hair was more sandy than blond, his eyes pale, dull green instead of emerald. He jogged toward Tyrion and Naharis. “Is it true?” He demanded upon reaching them. “Brienne’s given birth?”

Naharis glanced down at Tyrion. Tyrion decided to go for the direct approach.

“Why did you help Cersei?” 

Lancel’s smile faltered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This is Detective Naharis. You know him. He interviewed your earlier. I know for a fact that he asked if you had any idea who might have taken Brienne. That’s a little hard to believe now considering the evidence I hold. _Why. Did. You. Help. Her_.”

As he spoke the last four words, he advanced toward his cousin. Lancel was six feet tall and he four-foot-five. Yet he shuddered from Tyrion’s glare. 

“Tell me you didn’t. Tell me that our fucking aunt covering for you doesn’t mean you helped her.” As Lancel looked away, Tyrion demanded, “Tell me you had no part in aiding and abetting a crime.”

Lancel turned bodily away but Tyrion was swift. He blocked his cousin, shoving at him through the waist. Naharis made a warning, “Hey, easy,” but he wouldn’t be stopped.

“Why, Lancel? How could you—she’s insane. Do you understand? She’s _insane_ and you willfully took part in endangering the life of a mother and her child.”

Seeing trouble, Gregor was quickly making his way back to Tyrion while Naharis was trying to get between them. Tyrion surprised everyone by shoving Lancel with a force that sent him toppling to the ground on his ass. Everyone turned around.

“Mr. Lannister—“ Gregor started to reach for him but Tyrion flung off his hand. His mismatched eyes and ugly features combined into a savage, cruel mask. 

_“Speak up!”_ He shouted.

Naharis stepped between them. “This is not the place. Remember what you asked of me? You’re breaking it,” he whispered to Tyrion.  
That sobered him up. Tyrion’s face cleared but he continued to glower at his cousin. Lancel remained on the ground, actually sniveling. Disgusted, Tyrion spat, “You’re pathetic.”

Lancel started to get up while Tyrion stood his ground. Naharis offered a hand but Lancel shook his head sharply.

“She saved me. She saved me when the lot of you would have just told me repeatedly that I embarrass the family,” he said as soon as he was upright.

With his patience now dry, Tyrion exploded. “So, did you? You were the one who helped her escape her guards? Did you? _Did you?_ ” 

Lancel didn’t answer. 

“Our aunt isn’t known for her benevolence. What the fuck are you into?” 

“If it were my fiancée in Brienne’s shoes, would this happen?” Lancel suddenly demanded, gesturing sharply and rudely at the police and other people around them. “Pull the police force, the fire department, just to get her back? The answer is no. _Because I’m not Jaime.”_ His tone was bitter.

“You certainly are not.”

“All my life it’s always Jaime this. Jaime’s better. Taller. Handsome. The Golden Son.” Lancel suddenly lunged at Tyrion. Tyrion kept his stance while Gregor and Naharis stopped him. Lancel struggled, growling and spewing nastiness as the two men restrained him. When he suddenly slammed his foot down Gregor’s ankle, Naharis kneed him from behind. He fell, taking the two men with him. Tyrion curled his small hands into fists as he glared back at his cousin’s hateful stare.

“Just answer his question,” Naharis told Lancel.

“Of course I helped her. And I’d do it again. Cersei was the only one who saw my worth. She loves me.” Lancel said the last sentence softly so that only the three men close to him would hear. “She’s the only one to want me. You’ve hurt and tormented her. Sold her off like cattle. For what? More money? We understood each other. We always had. We’re always fucked in your eyes, no matter what. But Jaime? He can leave the family, turn his back and he’s still the fucking Golden Son. Even she thinks so but I love her still. You can’t just stop loving the mother of your daughter.” He murmured to himself. 

Tyrion felt ill. Gerion, Jaime and Lancel? Lancel, enjoying his discomfort, continued, “Yes. We’re fucking. I’ve known about her and Jaime from the beginning. I saw her beginning to get tired of me but I let her have him. I love her. Told her no matter what, I loved her. I never cared about the others. She would always come back to me. She left Rhaegar for me. " 

Smirking, he held out his wrists to Naharis. “Go on. Arrest me. I confess to everything. I bribed the guards. That’s how I got her out. She asks for so little and look what you make her do. As far as I’m concerned, Jaime Lannister deserves to lose for the first time.” 

 

The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit was a bland yet fitting name for that place in the hospital where the tiniest hearts barely fluttered. Jaime stared past the other babies near the front, his tired eyes widening at the newest infant in the room.

His son weighed a little over four pounds and was eighteen inches long. Premature babies at his age, according to the doctor, tend to be smaller, weighing just a little over three pounds or less. His size meant things were a little hopeful although Jaime was told they would have to prepare for future respiratory and vision problems, and maybe even some mental development. Things were not often as dire but it was better for the parents to be ready should these things happen.

He continued to stare at his boy, fast asleep in the isolette to keep him warm. Brienne had been loathed to let go when they landed in the hospital, her blue eyes tearing up as she begged Jaime to do something. He understood—he worried that away from them, they wouldn’t be able to protect the child. But he also knew he had to be turned over to proper medical care because he was born too early. 

They were looking at having the baby stay in the hospital for two months, or if the tide would turn in their favour just this once, as soon as he was breathing on his own and could be fed. They could only look in on their son until the doctor determined he was stable enough. They would only be able to touch him, then. Another waiting period would come before they could hold him and feed him.

Jaime rested his head on the glass, staring still. He had no idea how long he stood there until a hand touched his shoulder. Sniffing, he turned and saw Tywin.

“You need to see Brienne, son,” he said as Jaime brushed his tears away with his hand, then arm. “She asks for you.”

He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what she would say to him. This was all his fault. Brought her to Casterly Rock. Didn’t close the door to the terrace. Didn’t do enough to keep Cersei away. Now here they were. He had no idea if his son would still be alive tomorrow or the day after that. Plenty of things he didn’t know about anymore but one thing he was sure of was he dreaded facing Brienne’s wrath. So this is how I lose her, he thought, unmoving from his spot.

Tywin, thinking his hesitation was due to the baby, added, “I’ll stay here. I’ll keep watch, Jaime. Go on.”

He glanced back at his son.

“He will be alright. I swear it.”

Jaime nodded and walked away.

He took the elevator to Brienne’s floor. For their own peace of mind, they had asked Marbrand to send over police to keep watch. The cop nodded at Jaime and let him in.

The room was softly lit, the only area with light around Brienne’s bed. Jaime closed the door behind him. Though dark, he could see the I.V. tube attached to her. As he approached, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

He stopped. Ice gripped his heart. 

Blinking at him, she whispered, “Jaime. Oh, Jaime.”

He couldn’t resist. Never. Not when she spoke his name like that. Grunting, he went and gathered her in his arms. She whimpered against him though she hugged him back. Always strong and unyielding in his arms unless when tangled in her release, it was disconcerting to know she felt small and fragile. Jaime pulled away a little to brush tendrils of her hair away from her forehead. Her eyes were glassy with tears too and his heart broke as they fell on the bruises under her eyes, her cheek, her chin. Rage and fear and warred for dominance in his heart.

“I’m so sorry.” He took her lips in a careful kiss They were abrasive to the touch but he kissed her again. “Gods, Brienne. I’m so sorry.”

She froze. “Did something happen?”

Jaime was so caught up in her hate he hadn’t thought how she would take his words. She looked shocked and terrified. Realizing what he had implied, he frantically shook his head.

“No. No, my love. Kylan is okay,” he said, caressing her cheek. Perhaps naming their child, when it was holding on to life so precariously, was not a wise move but they couldn’t let themselves be without hope. They named him Kylan Lannister Tarth.

Confused, she demanded, though her voice was still raspy from her dry throat, “Then what are you apologizing for? Jaime, you’re scaring me.”

As she spoke, he pressed tentative kisses up and down her neck before his head fell on her chest. He closed his eyes as her arms went around him. Turning, he examined the scratches there and other defensive bruises. There it was. Further proof of his failure. He let out a miserable sound as he kissed the bruises on her wrist.

“I should have protected you.” He finally said, when he summoned just enough courage to look at her. “I did this.” 

Gently, his hand lowered to her stomach. The skin there was still loose. 

Brienne stared back at him wordlessly. For once, Jaime couldn’t read her, and she was so easy to read. The tiniest flicker of emotion from her eyes, the slightest twitch at the corner of her lips never failed to tell him how she felt. This time her face was a blank canvass, just sapphire eyes and bruises.

“There was nothing we could have done,” she said. “None of what happened was our doing.”

“ _I_ brought you to Casterly Rock. _I_ fell in love with you. _I_ chose you.”

“Are you telling me you regret them?” She growled.

“Look at what happened!”

“You’re a fucking idiot!” She suddenly exploded, her voice sounding torn. “You’re the biggest fool I know, Jaime, Lannister, if that’s what you think! Neither of us could have known the depths Cersei resorted to. We had no control. There was nothing we could have done. From the moment we chose each other, from the moment I loved you, we set these things in motion. We’ve been through so much and you tell me you regret choosing me? Because you believe you’re responsible?”

“You don’t know what the fuck I’m seeing now to not have regrets.” The bruises and other marks on her face, on her wrists. Jaime couldn’t let his mind go to what Cersei and Petyr Baelish had done to her. He would go to pieces. 

“And you don’t know how I fucking feel. I’m scared. I’m so scared and so unsure and I need you to be with me but this is what I get from you? Fuck you.” 

He didn’t protest. He deserved it.

Brienne wasn’t done. “You’re always telling me we’re in this together. Was that a lie, Jaime? Tell me now. Because I refuse to be with you if you’re going to be riddled with guilt you don’t deserve. _I don’t blame you. This had nothing to do with you._ This was all Cersei and her sick mind.”

“I am sorry.” 

“Don’t!” She begged him. “Jaime, please. No!”

Moving weakly, she managed to grab him by the hands to pull him close. Her mouth crashed against his, a kiss that put all the other kisses they had to shame. It was a kiss that pleaded and asserted, a kiss that owned and fought. Jaime groaned and kissed her back furiously, surrendering to her strength. She nipped and sucked on his lips and he retaliated, giving it back to her twice as much. He swallowed her gasps, his fingers dragging at the rough tangle of her hair. 

When the storm of their kisses eased, they were reduced to pants and whimpers. Brienne held his face while Jaime had his hand around her nape. 

“I love you. I love you. How can you think the worst when I love you?” She admonished him, sounding pained. She turned away and he heard her sniffle. 

He sighed and nodded. “Forgive me.”

She looked back at him and said,“Always, Jaime. I love you.”

He looked at her and was staggered at the realization that this was all the truth he would need for the rest of his days. He took her hand and kissed it, wishing that this would heal away all that they had suffered. Something told him it was a start. 

“I choose you, Brienne. It will always be you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you remember, Selyne assumed Jaime's her Dad based on the rumour but their DNA weren't compared together. Jaime also assumed Selyne is his because of what Gerion and Cersei told him. Cersei probably doesn't know herself but this latest twist opens the possibility that Jaime didn't father any child with Cersei, which is yay for us. 
> 
> I had the impression that Lancel was jealous of Jaime although he doesn't have a POV chapter in ASOIAF. He wants to be like him, and Cersei bangs him simply because he resembles Jaime. In the TV show, I was reminded that Lancel would always be failed version of Jaime. He tried to save King's Landing from wildfyre but failed. Jaime succeeded and we know what happened after that. 
> 
> I don't remember if Lancel's age was mentioned in the books but I'm guessing that if he's Robert's squire, then he's still a minor. Cersei having an affair with him, even when he's willing, is still rape. In this modern AU, he's a year younger than Jaime. Jaime and Cersei started their affair when he was fifteen. Lancel claims he was the first and this was the reason Rhaegar divorced Cersei. That would put him to between thirteen/fourteen. 
> 
> Can we all have a prayer circle? Like, can Cersei PLEASE die in the first episode of Season 7?


	10. The Sapphire Isle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne, eight years after the events in Chapter 9: Hear Me Roar

The sun fell warm and golden on the ground, quite heavy-handedly but Brienne, curled up on her side on the couch, was too comfortable to get up and draw the drapes closed. Her eyes were closed but she could still see it, and felt its caress even more. A deep, contented sigh drifted out of her and she opened her eyes.

She continued to lie down, just staring into nothingness and feeling hardly any urgency at all. A stomach bug that had been nagging her for days so finally took time off from work to see the doctor. She rubbed her tummy and stretched, groaning as stiff joints and muscles popped heavenly.

One arm still stretched over her head, she reached for the kitchen timer with the other. Only fifteen minutes to go before the brownies were ready to be taken out of the oven. She sniffed appreciatively at the aroma of sugar and chocolate all throughout the house. This was how home should always smell, she thought, giving herself another long, very satisfying stretch before leaping to her feet. 

In the kitchen, she took a package of chicken from the freezer and put by the sink to defrost. As she rooted around the kitchen grabbing random ingredients from cupboards and shelves, she mentally rifled through recipes. Preparing meals was a task she and Jaime took turns in, though that wasn’t really set. It really depended on who got home first. Since she was off from work, she was in charge.

Brienne surveyed the ingredients she had gathered. A jar of tomato sauce, a barely-touched block of Parmesan cheese plus very plump eggplants called for eggplant parmigiana. With the chicken she could either roast the pieces on the grill or deep-fry it in a batter made of crushed potato chips. There was still enough vegetables to make a salad with. A good balance of protein with an emphasis on vegetables. She hummed happily and prepared the food she would be making later. It was only three-thirty. Jaime would just be arriving at school to get the kids.

The timer dinged and she took the tray of brownies from the oven, leaving them on the counter to dry. As she pulled out dessert plates, utensils and glasses from cupboards, she heard them arriving. First was the car engine softening to a purr, followed by doors opening and slamming shut. Grinning, she put down the things next to the brownies and hurried to the front door. 

“Hey, everyone!” She greeted them. Her sapphire eyes softened at the children running toward her.

At seven years old, Kylan was skinny and on the small side. His hair was thick and golden and his eyes were a big, brilliant blue. He may be too young to be wearing eyeglasses but his near-sightedness, was a very mild consequence of being born premature. He was a little out of breath when he reached his mother, throwing his arms around her waist as she ruffled the ends of his hair. Asthma was another but his doctors were hopeful he would outgrow it. He also got sick easily but Kylan was an active child, and played soccer in school. He was also smart, inquisitive and friendly. 

They would never forget those two difficult months following Kylan’s birth. Because he was born premature, they had to take extreme care when around him. They made sure their hands were washed and clean before putting on the gowns when entering the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. It was heartbreaking not being able to touch and feed her son herself until the doctor gave the okay. Nothing that they did was without this explicit permission. First, Kylan had to be breathing normally before they could actually touch him. Then it was some time before they could carry him, and eventually, for Brienne to nurse him. When they were able to bring him home later, they still had to monitor his physical and mental development. There were nights upon nights of tears, of she and Jaime just holding each other and unable to find the words for fear that these would be unfulfilled, or worse, broken vows. 

Though the doctors were positive about Kylan, they still cautioned the parents about the challenges that lay ahead for him. It was expected that he would have vision and breathing problems, as well as a weakened immune system. Jaime and Brienne feared the worst upon being told that his brain development may be slow and he would be needing help for the rest of his life. 

Realizing just how likely these scenarios were had them assessing their lives. Kylan was going to need round-the-clock monitoring and care—impossible with their full-time jobs. Jaime had quickly signed on to this, proposing to focus mainly on running Casterly Company and cutting down on his trips. But Brienne knew she wouldn’t be at peace working in the museum and wondering if her son was alright . She had to insist to be the one to give up her job. Catelyn was sorry to see her go but understood.

With more time devoted to Kylan, Brienne and Jaime found some assurance yet they really wouldn’t know anything until Kylan was older. They would talk about how to make things easier for their son, the kind of environment that would be best for him. They had friends and the city, and Jaime’s work, as well as some of his family. It was an adequate system of support yet they felt that the city was no place for a child who seemed to be on borrowed time. They believed Kylan had to be somewhere where he could grow and thrive, and not make him any sicker in the future. The city with its pollution, therefore, was out.

Lannisport was an option they hardly considered. Yes, Jaime had family there but since the abduction, they had refused to set foot in Casterly Rock. It was a place of bad memories. For Jaime, he would always associate it with Cersei’s abuse and the danger Brienne and Kylan had been put through. Brienne could not fully trust any of the Lannisters save for Tywin and Tyrion.

Cersei’s crimes had caused a rift in the family. At her trial, Tywin refused to provide assistance to her in any way. Genna was not close to her sister but felt duty-bound to at least try to help. Upon learning of this, Tywin threatened to cut her off from the family and ensure she and her children and future heirs will have no share in the company. It brought Genna to heel but she and Tywin are still not on speaking terms.  
When Kevan found out about Lancel and Cersei, he fell in a deep depression. Lancel was imprisoned for five years, despite his lawyer arguing that he was also a victim. He was out now but was on probation for the next three years, a condition Tyrion had fought to make possible because he felt that his cousin got off lightly. Lancel refused Kevan’s pleas to seek therapy, and blamed the family for what would happen to Cersei. The last they had heard of him, he had left for Essos, violating the terms of his probation that forbade any travel outside of Westeros. Jaime and Brienne hoped he knew of his arrest warrant and would never return. 

For her crimes, Cersei was sentenced to thirty years, with no hope for parole. Her accomplice, Petyr Baelish, remained at large and seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. 

Tyrion managed to exact influence to close the trial from the public through the prosecutor Davos Seaworth, his roommate from law school. He couldn’t plug Cersei’s sexual abuse of her nephews and the children she may have had with them. Cersei’s defense, the grand-standing but inexperienced Kettleback brotherS, thought to establish her pattern of abuse as a sign of mental incapacity. Davos shredded this line of argument and established that for all her actions, Cersei Lannister exercised clear thought, thus had full awareness of what she was doing and the consequences of her actions. 

Three days after her imprisonment began, Cersei was found to have overdosed on sleeping pills. Tywin got his hands on who had visited her and found Genna’s name there. This was the last straw. He gathered the board for an emergency meeting and got them to blackball his sister and her family from partaking any shares and interests from the company. The headlines screamed about “The Wrath of the Lion,” “The Lion Pays Debts,” and “The Clash of Lions.” Genna filed a lawsuit but Tywin won. Instead of his actions backfiring on him, Tywin was more feared and respected than before. When the news died down, the focus shifted to Tyrion—“The Cub With the Mightiest Roar,” according to one headline. It was apparent he inherited his father’s cunning and he worried about being as ruthless or more. 

Gerion had wisely decided not to fight his brother for the right to take part in the company although some of his shares were restored. Though he thought to establish some sort of relationship with Tyrek, too much had happened and the damages resulting from Cersei’s actions were irreparable. 

It was also agreed that Gerion and Selyne’s parentage must be established once and for all. Tywin and Jon Umber had broached the subject to those concerned. As expected, the results showed that Gerion was Tyrek’s father. Jaime was not Selyne’s. Before Lancel suddenly disappeared, he provided a DNA sample. He was her father. 

Tyrek’s actions had resulted in two years in a correctional facility. He came out a changed man, not bitter, but still haunted by the choices he made. With Jon’s agreement, he was paid his share of the company provided he never set foot anywhere in Lannisport, nor do anything in connection to their empire. He was to never have contact with Jaime, Brienne and their children. Selyne did not serve time but was put on probation. Tywin paid her off too. She too was told never to have any contact with Jaime and Brienne. 

Tyrek complied but Selyne was stubborn. It was Brienne who had to tell her that while she could understand the reasons behind the young girl’s actions, or inaction, her son was put in danger, with repercussions lasting for a lifetime. She could never forgive them for that. Selyne never called again. 

A person Brienne never expected to hear from got in touch with her a month before they moved to Tarth. She had no idea how Oberyn got her number since he was in jail for tax evasion but there he was on the other line, pleading for her forgiveness. The recent events had proven that the truly vile walked among the good and she was not trusting of a lot of people at the moment. However, she refused to be bitter and angry over things she could never control. Not when there were two people in her life that showed her everyday the limitless capacity of the human heart to love. To remain angry at Oberyn over what he had done would be to carry over a part of her past that may taint the golden future ahead. She didn’t say she would forgive him but someday she might try. After their talk, she threw away the box that held their wedding album and the things he had given her. She never thought about him again, and changed numbers. 

Moving to Tarth was by far the best decision Jaime and Brienne made. The crisp air from the sea at the back of their house brought a healthy pink flush to Kylan’s jaundiced face. Much had to be cleared away from her childhood home and put in storage, plus renovation work that updated the electrical lines and pipes around the house. The first few months were chaotic and Jaime was a little out of sorts. “Slow and easy,” she reassured him as Kylan nursed from her breast. It would be a year before they were sexually intimate again.

Kylan was two years old when they got married right here in the house, in the backyard looking out to the beach. It was a small wedding but big on love. They went away to Oldtown for a week, with Renly and Margaery looking after Kylan. A month after the wedding, Brienne was pregnant again.

Brienne opened her arms and Kylan launched himself at her. Laughing, she swung him round and round until they had to sit on the front steps, laughing. “I missed you, Mom,” he said, embracing her tightly. Brienne nuzzled her nose through his hair. 

“I missed you too, sweetheart. How was school?” Today was her turn to pick them up from school but she had that appointment with the doctor.

Kylan looked up at her. Though still very much a child, the concern on his face was a mirror of Jaime’s. “It’s okay. Are you still sick?”

“Nope. I really wasn’t sick at all, actually.” 

As she spoke, a girl of five threw herself toward Brienne. She pretended to groan but easily caught her daughter. Damaris, or Demi, laughed against her neck before she settled on her mother’s lap. Kylan pulled at Brienne’s arm until it settled around his shoulders.  
“Hello, my sunshine,” Brienne said as Demi kissed her sweetly on the cheek. 

Demi smiled angelically at her. Her hair was thick, pale blond, her eyes a vivid emerald green. Her features were Brienne’s but they were not coarse nor was her face anywhere close to being described as homely. She was heavily freckled and was looking to have big teeth. But she was clearly a beautiful child.

Demi was tall, with only a hairline difference between her and Kylan. She was big-boned and healthy. Shy and prone to blushing, she tend to just smile and bury her face against her mother’s neck or her father’s around company. But she too was inquisitive like Kylan. 

Due to her last two pregnancies, Brienne was worried about not carrying a child to full term again. So she was really happy with the ease of how Demi came into the world. One minute, Brienne was staring in confusion at the pool of water on the floor. In the next, she was holding her screaming daughter in her arms. 

“Daddy got us today,” Demi scolded her, pouting. She knew it was Brienne’s turn. 

“Mama was not feeling well this morning,” Brienne explained.

“But she’s not sick,” Kylan added. 

“Oh.” Demi’s smile was brighter than a thousand suns. “Great!”

“My sentiments exactly,” Jaime’s voice rang out from behind the car. He carried the children’s bags. Brienne blushed as he paused mid-stride to regard her and the children, his lips quirked in a smile, his green eyes warm and soft. 

“There’s brownies in the kitchen. Run along now,” Brienne told the children. They squealed and ran off. She got to her feet as Jaime reached her. He dropped the bags and put his hands on her waist. Since Brienne was standing on a step, she was much taller. She put her arms around him and he pressed deep, sucking little kisses up and down her throat before their lips met. 

He was hard against her thigh and she knew that once the children were distracted, he would take her to bed and fuck her. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation but looking at him now, she saw the concern on his face. She brushed his hair away from his brow, noticing the few silver scattered there. How different her life had turned out, all because of the man in her arms. With him she had discovered the kind of happiness most people could only yearn for. 

“Tell me the truth. What did the doctor say?” Jaime asked.

“I’m not sick.” Brienne answered cheerfully, making him frown.

“Not that I enjoyed hearing you seemingly on the throes of death this morning, my love, but you didn’t sound good at all.”

She shrugged innocently. “The doctor did say that in the coming months certain foods and smells will make me sick.”

It was adorable watching the expressions flit across her husband’s face before a smile formed. She laughed as he held her fast to his chest, his gaze disbelieving and joyful. “ _Holy shit._ You don’t say. . .?”

“Yep.” Brienne laughed as he suddenly yanked her inside the house. Together they glanced toward the kitchen before he grinned at her and gave her a kiss that was very improper and naughty should the children catch them. She moaned lustily against his tongue as he hungrily cupped her breasts before sliding to her stomach and touching the still-flat surface gently, reverently. 

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Jaime marveled, cutting their kiss short so he could look at her. Then he pushed up her blouse, touching her on the belly still. She smiled at the adoration on his face, feeling herself getting weak in the knees. Then he grinned at her and pulled her again for another kiss. 

“We’re going to have to expand upstairs,” he told her, lips separating briefly before kissing again. 

“Hmm. That’s true.” There were only three bedrooms. Brienne shuddered as his tongue slid across her lower lip. “We need another room.”

“Or two. Or a really big one.” 

Brienne stepped back a bit but like Jaime, she kept touching him. She had gotten it from him, this relentless need to touch.

“You think we’re having twins. Jaime, I’m only six weeks. We won’t find out for months.” 

“I was right about Demi,” he reminded her proudly. “I’m sure about twins this time.”

She grinned. “A boy and a girl.”

“Or girls.” 

“Or twin boys.” 

They joined their children in the kitchen. Kylan offered Jaime a sip of milk from his plastic tumbler and his father thanked him. Brienne put her arms around Demi and watched Jaime talk and make funny faces for the children. 

It came from a place of deep gratitude and love to say that life was good. Their children were healthy and thriving, and hopefully, the third (or the third and the fourth, if Jaime was right) would be as well.

Everything in Tarth was of a smaller scale but it suited Jaime and Brienne. He still owned Casterly Company, although he had turned over the running of the business there to Bronn. In Tarth, he owned and also ran Casterly Books. This didn’t sell rare, out-of-print books but popular fiction, non-fiction and a few scholarly titles. Jaime still did some book dealing but he didn’t like having to be away from his family for more than two days. 

Brienne took a gamble and opened The Sapphire Gallery. Built to feature the work of local artists and craftsmen, it made the trajectory to being the place for artists from the Stormlands to feature their work. She was also a member of the local tourism board, and was working on making Tarth into a haven for artists in the next few years. 

After the children snacked and Jaime went back to the front to get their bags, Brienne washed the plates. She looked out of the window and shielded her eyes. The sun won’t set for another couple of hours. Still, she called her family and invited them to go for a walk on the beach.  
Brienne held Kylan by the hand while Jaime carried Demi on his back. They locked up the house then went to the beach, talking excitedly. As soon as Kylan’s feet touched sand, he took off and dared his sister to race him. Demi demanded to be let down and laughing, Jaime bent so she could hop off and chase her brother. They watched the children tear a path across the sand, shrieking and egging each other on.  
As Brienne watched them, Jaime put an arm around her waist. She turned to him. His eyes glinted like amber in the sun. 

“What are you thinking, wench?” He asked, chuckling when she slapped him on the arm.

“Gods, Jaime, still? I swear one of these days the children would overhear you and they’ll start calling me that too.” Brienne groaned.

“You are so cute when annoyed. Makes it impossible to not call you wench, my wench.” He continued. Brienne pretended to hit him again but he wrapped his arms around her. It was so unfair because they both knew the kind of effect he had on her. She knew he could feel and hear the hitch in her breath, the quicker kick of her heart. She let him pull her down the sand with him. Jaime’s body surrounded hers although she was taller than him even when sitting down. But years of being attuned and knowing each other’s bodies had dispelled the early awkwardness of her moving and adjusting so she could lean against him easily. A pleased sigh laced with a sensual moan fell from her lips as he kissed her on the cheek while he palmed the heat at the juncture between her thighs.

“I asked what you were thinking,” he whispered, rubbing his lips up and down her cheek while caressing her. 

“Hmm. I wonder how many times tonight will you fuck me,” she joked. They laughed. They both knew they would be fucking at least twice once the children were tucked in. 

“That’s a given,” he retorted and she slapped him on the thigh. “No, really. Tell me.”

“How much I love you.” Brienne sat up and turned to face him. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips kiss-swollen. “How there’s really nothing I can do but love you more. It’s not like I have a choice there.”

Jaime cupped her cheek and she kissed his palm. “What a coincidence, wench. That’s what I’m thinking too.”

“Liar,” she teased before kissing him.

“Okay. I confess that I’m also thinking of you naked. Why can’t we be bad parents and knock out the kids so we can fuck now?” He said as she returned to the circle of his arms. 

“What do you think she’ll be like? Or he.” Brienne kissed him on the chin and looked at the water. Kylan and Demi were digging in the moist sand. “Or they.”

“Oh, definitely with your eyes. With Kylan’s resilience and like Demi, secretly spunky. Strong. Won’t take shit from anybody. Maybe not as stubborn as you, though, but,” Jaime kissed her on the cheek, “what’s the fun in that?”

“Green eyes are beautiful too,” Brienne told him. He fluttered his eyelashes at her exaggeratedly. She let out snort.

“Of course they are.” Jaime kissed her again. “Hey, maybe they’ll be like Tyrion. One green eye, one blue.”

Brienne sighed contentedly. Still keeping an eye on the kids, she whispered, “Look at them. Can you believe that all this is really happening, that our lives are really like this?”

“How can I not? This was in the cards, Brienne.”

“Destiny, you mean? Gods, Jaime Lannister, I didn’t peg you for a romantic, let alone to believe in destiny.” She mocked playfully.

“No, it’s not destiny.”

“Then what?”

She turned to look at him again. Jaime smiled at her and shook his head. “It’s not that I knew all this was going to happen beforehand but they just had to. From the moment you walked in Casterly Company pissed as hell and dripping with rain, with your unbelievably blue eyes, I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“That I loved you. And when I chose you, all this,” Jaime swept his arms wide, “was going to happen. It just took time but I’ve always believed we’ll find ourselves right where we are, in this moment. I only had to choose you and love you.”

Overwhelmed with how the simplicity of his words and declaration could weigh so much, Brienne stammered, “J-Jaime. Only you can make what we went through sound as if it was just a minor setback.” She wasn’t reprimanding him. Just stunned with how right he was.

“With what we have now, with what we did to get here, everything that happened before seems so small. Those were very difficult days but I wonder if things happened differently we’d be here now, and feeling like this.”

Brienne shook her head. “Except loving you, Jaime. It's not a small thing. It just grows and grows. And it’s not difficult.”

He smiled and caressed her cheek. The sun was warm, her heart was bursting with immense joy. But his hand on her cheek, his eyes looking at her, made her the warmest.

“I love you, Brienne.” 

The three words that they used to say to each other with desperation and pain. There was none of that now. Stripped off anxiety and uncertainty, they saw it as something golden yet more precious than all the gold in the world. This was the truth written from the first time they set eyes on each other.

“I love you, Jaime,” she whispered and threw her arms around him. He held her fiercely. 

The sun shone on them. For the rest of their days, the would love and live in the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end, yay!
> 
> When I wrote this, I wanted to experiment with writing something darker. It was difficult and exciting, but many times I had to restrain myself from being unreasonably cruel to the characters. I wanted to see if after putting the main characters through all kinds of hell, they would fight for each other. A happy ending was always envisioned for Jaime and Brienne in this Modern AU but I wanted to explore as well the issue of how far they're willing to go to have the life they deserve. 
> 
> The things that happened to them were not due to their actions, but for the unfortunate reason of being that person at that time and place. It's the people instigating those atrocities against them that believe Jaime and Brienne brought it upon themselves. The last chapter may not be to everyone's liking because not everyone got what they deserved, or at least, not the punishment they deserved. But just like in real life, the people who deserve the worst practically walk away unscathed. I think I avoided that, but barely. But if I go through the route, of say, Cersei ending up raped in prison as karma to what she did to Jaime, it just felt. . .wrong. And if something like that did happen to her, she's going to be more vengeful and hate Jaime and Brienne even more because she would blame them for what happened. That's why it was the better option to kill her off.
> 
> Lancel isn't really a character we know much of, and that's intentional. I intended him for someone to come from the left field, and what we know of him would be based on the few instances he was in the series. In the show and the books, it's the same. We don't really know much about him. We don't care about him but it's his idiocy (I think he is) that got him obeying everything Cersei demanded of him, and complicated even more the ongoing conflict in the books and the series. However, that does't mean we want to beat him up. That's why in this series, he only gets so very little jail time then disappears.
> 
> I have a feeling that only two things will happen to Petyr Baelish in the books: he gets the Iron Throne without anyone knowing he was primarily responsible for what happened OR he dies but no one really knows the extent of the damage he's done. Either he completely gets away with murder or he takes some secrets with him to the grave. So Petyr here manages to escape.
> 
> Gerion, much like Lancel, isn't a character we really care about. Tyrek and Selyne too. Why did I make such a big deal of Jaime believing himself to be Selyne's father, then? Simple. It's a further test to Jaime and Brienne's commitment to each other. Relationships that began because of cheating don't really succeed after a while. I wanted to see just how much they really love and how far they'll go for each other given their baggage. They had to realize that what they have isn't because of the appeal of the illicit but they really loved each other. Hence, all kinds of hell that I brought on them. 
> 
> I don't know much about premature babies so what we have here in the character of Kylan is based on a quick web search. Some preemies have a normal life, some don't. I went with the former. That's it. 
> 
> This story would not have been possible without your kudos and comments. I'm not the most religious when it comes to replying, but when I do, my gratitude is genuine. There are so many great fics out there and you read mine and monitor it, are invested. That's a huge deal for me, that's why I worry whether you'll like the latest update or wish to hang me by my toenails. 
> 
> A huge shout-out to Jades, SeleneU, GumTree and Isola_Carmela for commenting and being really invested to the characters in this story. I admit to enjoying their frustration and shock at how I did certain things. And I hope you forgive me for enjoying that too much. 
> 
> So. I leave this universe. Thank you for reading and loving, for sometimes wanting to wish Seven Hells on me for the things I had the characters do. I'm done with dark stuff for a while (my other work, Westeros Central Agency is sick-dark, but there are parts in The Affair too that are disturbing) and am going back to The Lannisters Are Coming. 
> 
> THANK YOU!!!! 
> 
> ____  
> The name of Jaime and Brienne's daughter comes from the Patrick Wolf song, Damaris. The video starred him and Gwendoline Christie, and her legs. Check it out. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S77jnQWU4Uo

**Author's Note:**

> Why can't I just let them be happy? What is wrong with me? *glares at self in the mirror.


End file.
